Aduro: Odi et Amo
by Fury of the Flames
Summary: Revision! When Raito gains victory as Kira, he takes L prisoner as an example of what happens to those that stand in his way. However, as L's captivity lengthens Raito finds himself unable to kill his once dangerous adversary. Non-con, dark-fic
1. Chapter 1

Here we go! This is my first DN fic _ever._..so wish me luck! I've wanted to do my own take on a _Kira wins_ scenario, and I've had plenty of wonderful inspiration in the past six months! Yes, that's about how long I've been working on this idea...and what better way to celebrate a first fic in a genre than to publish on the birthday of your fav character? (Even if it is with a fic that he gets regularly tormented in) I will warn you that I tend to be a rather slow writer and I'm easily distracted by shiny objects. Especially if those objects are in Vegas along the strip, where I sat in the VIP section of Rain and wrote my first draft of the chapter _Asphyxia_. I then went back to the city of neon lights to work on a later chapter and I might go again in a month and see what happens then. Is it any wonder why they call it Sin City?

**WARNING! **This story is not only rated M, but more accurately qualifies as a dark-fic. In other words, it not only contains yaoi, but also torture, non-con and if you have problem with murder then maybe you're in the wrong place after all...I would advise anyone who has a problem with any of those things to turn the other way. There are also spoilers for L's real name...but let's face it. Wasn't that one of the first things you were dying to know? Didn't you go out of your way to find out what it was? Have you created a user name on here incorporating it as your very own? Or were you one of those people who didn't and decided to use one for another character? Believe me, I thought about doing it too, in the vein of Palahniuk's character Tyler Durden, spouting off such priceless gems as "I am L's complete lack of surprise", or "I am L's pancreas in diabetic shock". Catchy, but way too long to be taken seriously.

**Disclaimer: I own a lot of things. However, the characters in this fic are not among them. All credit for their brilliant creation goes to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata.. Also, I make no profit from this...but wouldn't that be the best job in the world? To make a living writing about my fav characters and making them dance to all the yaoi inspired goodness in my head? Oh, what a wonderful thing it is, to dream!**

**Chapter One: Homo Homini Lupus**

_**Odi et amo. Quare id faciam fortasse requiris. Nescio, sed fieri sentio, et excrucior**_ ~**Catullus 85**

_**I hate and I love. Perhaps you may ask why I do this. I do not know. But I feel it happening and I am tortured. **_

L opens his eyes as if he has just awoken from a very bad dream. Pain slices through his usually keen perceptions and he immediately closes them again. He can't remember why he's in so much pain, and drifts in and out of states of confusion as if he's drugged, as the steady thrum of his pulse distinctly felt in his temple grows stronger. Gradually, he begins to gain consciousness as blurry forms begin to gain clarity from the darkness. Although he can barely think with the sharp ache in his head, L immediately knows he is in danger.

Cautious fingers work their way through ebony hair and gingerly encounter a thick stickiness, and he pulls his hand back down to confirm the coagulating blood coating his fingertips. He rests his forehead against what feels like a concrete wall, his vision beginning to clear from the hazy images around him. The lighting is unusually dim, even by his standards and he is alone. His head pounds heavily, merely adding to the distress that his injury is far more severe than he had originally determined. A noticeable chill rushes across his skin and he lazily tries to raise his other hand across his chest when a metallic clink chimes the air and stops him. His eyes glance down to see that he is restrained by a cuff which is chained to a metal ring attached to the floor. L pulls his knees up to his chest and hugs them tight with one arm as a wave of severe nausea washes over him, breathing deep to keep his panic under control. L's gaze quickly follows around the room, trying to take in every minute detail with his current situation in mind. There appears to be a door, light streaming in from the bottom and the top of it, but otherwise his surroundings are dark. He barely sees anything else in the room, and his intelligence tells him to stay calm even as his senses rush into a swivet.

L distinctly remembers falling from his chair, the monitors blank, confirming that all files had been deleted as he had witnessed Watari's collapse. His eyes had instantly found Raito staring back at him from across the room, unaffected by the events that had started to unfold.

He closes his aching eyes for a brief moment when a last memory blazes through his thoughts, a set of hellish red eyes staring straight through him.

_L Lawliet._

His eyes hurriedly snap open as his heart begins to race frantically, his hand grips at his knees tightly with a brief gasp.

_Misa has said his name. Amane Misa, the second Kira had known his name and said it aloud as he had tried to evade someone who was intent upon chasing him down. His first Kira suspect, Yagami Raito, who had merely smiled with an arrogant charm as his colleagues fell one after another, stepping casually over the body of his own father who foamed bloody at the mouth in his final death throes. L had sprung to his feet and backed away in horror as Raito had continued his approach towards him, his expression warm and deadly. The bells had rung loudly in his ears as he sought to put as much distance between them as possible, running on pure instinct to the exit towards the main control room. Even if he only had time to set the main control system to lock down, Kira would be unable to escape the building and would die isolated and alone without the security codes to get out._

"_Congratulations, detective. It looks like you were right after everything that's happened. Turns out I was Kira all along. Aren't you pleased? You solved the biggest case of all time! I bet everyone would be proud of you ...if they were still alive. Come on L, don't run. You'll simply die tired..." _

_L had fled the room only to realize with a remorseful glance that the building was running only on emergency power, not enough for the elevators to function, which meant that he would have to reach the stairwell before Raito caught up to him. He was able to descend the first flight when he stopped cold in his tracks the moment his bare feet touched the landing as he gasped in horror at the sight of Misa Amane who stared back at him with blood red eyes. The same shinigami eyes he had seen when Rem had become irritated with his questioning, answering his persistent inquisition with only clipped, vague responses. Misa smiled sweetly at him, her almost childlike innocent gaze instantly unnerving him as she pursed her lips into a disproving scold and seemed to glance over his head before that dreaded confirmation of her powers fell boldly from her poisonous lips,_

"_L Lawliet."_

_He barely had time to register that Raito had caught up to him in his hesitance and had only slightly turned to catch a glimpse of a dark object striking him harshly before pain overwhelmed his senses and his vision faded to black._

It is then that L breaks out in a sudden sweat in spite of the cold which pervades his limbs, exhaustion creeping into his mind although he knows he should remain alert. _Where am I, and how do I escape?_ His mental train of thought struggles to focus through the painful haze of his concussion as his fingers once again touch his scalp to determine the extent of his wound. The bleeding has stopped for the most part, but the injury is swollen and sore and would leave a noticeable scar on the back of his head.

_If you have the fortune to live that long... _his brain tediously supplies to add to his rising paranoia, but the detective knows that this is not the time to waste on fear and miscalculation. Would it matter if he escaped or not? How far would he make it before Raito would notice his disappearance and simply write his name down? His keen mind takes off in a fit of deliberation, all the possibilities of what powers Kira had at his disposal coupled with the raw rationing intelligence of Yagami Raito.

A vague summary of the events that had lead up to his abduction rattles through his mind. In order to explain the situation as he can currently assess it, Kira would have had to control various members of the Task Force to defeat the security system within the building. However, Watari had been the only one outside of himself that possessed the pass codes for the main entries into the investigation headquarters. L closes his eyes at knowing that Watari had been controlled in the moments prior to his death, and had fought from sheer will to follow his instructions in the worst case scenario. What plans did Kira have for keeping him alive, and what would he force him to do before he either committed suicide in a horrible manner or met with a violent accident? Could Raito be merciful enough to let him simply die of a heart attack?

For some reason, L doubts that his adversary would let him get away easily with a quick death. No, not after being kept prisoner under surveillance in a cell for over fifty days, and then forced to endure being chained to his enemy for months afterward. L had tested the teenager with shrewd scrutiny every waking second of the day, and even observed the younger man as he had slept peacefully, often curled up and still as if he had not a care in the world. It had been such an act of perfection, so stunningly convincing that L had realized back then that Raito could only be the most dangerous of sociopaths. The rare breed of criminality aligned with intelligence and purpose, every move both physical and mental a well premeditated placement of intention like pawns on a chessboard.

He glances down at the chain binding his arm and then at the dim room around him, and the irony of his situation is not lost on him. Of course, a simple, clean cut death would not do, otherwise he would already be dead. Kira's imprisonment of him is purely personal, a well thought out decision given the preparations of the place he is currently incarcerated in. Such aforethought plans require sufficient intent to make them worthwhile, and the deduction causes a sudden anxiety to grasp his chest in a tightened crushing sensation.

L is instantly afraid, because he knows all too well that the odds are against him. Kira only needed a name and a face to kill him in anyway he could imagine, and Raito is now in possession of both. Even without that factor, L knows statistically after his initial assault that the very circumstances of being taken to a secondary crime scene severely decrease his chances for survival. He has been brought here for some purpose by his enemy and all possible scenarios as to why are grim. The prospect that his assailant plans to kill him are over 90 percent, and the probability that Raito would do so personally without using the Death Note were climbing steadily by the second. Nevertheless, L is certain that no one on the Task Force is alive, and that Watari was among the fallen victims as well. A redolent pang of regret shoots through his headache and he closes his eyes to hold back the surge of emotion that memory evokes. He feels the tang of bile threatening in the back of his throat and struggles to keep calm as lividity maneuvers in and overthrows the sensation of terror lurking in his gut.

Instantly, his eyes flash open as the metallic sound of a clicking lock meets his ears. L turns to face the direction of the noise as light floods the room with a blinding brightness that dims his vision in a wave of pain that only makes his nausea worse. He blinks rapidly until he can finally see the individual who has calmly entered, his gaze wide as he meets the lethal scrutiny of golden brown eyes that view him with slight amusement..Raito is immaculately dressed as usual, his perfect grace exuding more confidence than L feels up to dealing with. The detective's gaze narrows furiously, as the younger man pulls a chair from the corner and sits down in it nonchalantly, sparing his captive a spry smile before breaking the tense silence with an almost dulcet tone,

"How do you feel? You've managed to survive a serious blow to the head."

L yanks on the chain to show his annoyance and snaps back in reply, his tone a pretense of unaffected,

"Was it meant to kill me? Kira-kun sounds disappointed."

Raito shrugs noncommittally as his gaze wanders in a uninterested, almost complacent detour and he sighs,

"In due time, I suppose. I came here to make sure you were still alive. It wouldn't suit my purposes for you to die just yet." He looks slightly bored as he examines his fingernails with a slightly disgusted expression before glancing back at his captive and endowing him with another rare vicious smirk.. L did his best to perch in his customary sitting position, but the chain is much too short to comfortably maintain it for very long. He didn't bother to hide his aggravation as he states,

"Does Kira-kun plan to keep me here for very long? I'm tired and would like to lie down."

Raito stares at him and lets out a soft laugh that shows in his eyes as he retorts,

"You can sleep on the floor. Besides, it's not as if you sleep long enough to require a bed. Stop with the references to me in third person. You can address me directly, I will grant you that privilege if you behave yourself properly."

L grumbles, his voice low and sardonic, but the bare concrete walls and floor do nothing to disguise it,

"I suppose that's as good of a confession as any..."

Raito lets out a genuine laugh at that and leans back as he reaches into the pocket of his jacket, gracefully retrieving a hypodermic needle, holding it up to glint in the light for his captive to see,

'I did consider keeping you hostage in the same cell that you had imprisoned me in, but then the moment I considered it I realized it was too good for you. Since I will be the only one to make sure you atone for your sins, I must make sure the punishment fits the crime. Although your remaining time is limited, I've gone through great lengths to insure your captivity. Try to behave yourself as much as possible and I will allow you small privileges. Let's start with this."

Raito rises from his chair and takes a step towards his cautious adversary, who immediately uncurls his legs from their usual position and braces his back to the wall, posing in the best stance he can manage to kick with the most potential to inflict injury.

"I may be Kira's prisoner, but I refuse to be his bitch. Yagami-kun will have to fight me tooth and nail to get anything he wants from me."

Raito takes another step forward, shaking his head slightly in disapproval as he sighs and grins,

his voice saturating with faux sincerity and barely hidden malice,

"Don't make this difficult on yourself, I really don't want to have to hurt you."

He bravely steps forward, mentally preparing for the attack that would knowingly follow. L immediately thrusts his leg out towards him, barely missing, as the chain on his wrist becomes taut. He mentally curses himself for being so off balance as he tries to correct his balance. The drug still within his system makes him inaccurate and he focuses on strategy rather than force. If he allows Raito to come in closer range, the potential for serious injury to his captor increases. However, it also means that he must subject himself to greater risk, but Raito is faster and currently the stronger of the two. L quickly discovers he had very little range for movement and finds it difficult to propel a decent kick without momentum. The younger man's arm roughly grasps his limb before pinning his other leg against the wall, rendering the detective immobile from the waist down. L's begins to fight his captor in earnest when Raito grabs him by the hair and slams his head back against the concrete.

L cries out and stops struggling immediately and instinctively brings his arms up to cradle his head as he recognizes a sharp pinch in his thigh. Within seconds, he begins to feel very sedate in spite of the excruciating throb of his concussion as Raito slowly releases him, guiding his body to the floor before reaching into his back pocket to retrieve a handful of black zip ties. He takes hold of both of L's wrists and wraps one of the ties around them before securing it snugly in place. L wills himself to respond but finds that he feels unusually disconnected and too light headed to struggle. What manner of drug has Raito injected him with? L barely rationalizes trying to move, much less fight back against this new development, his eyes travail to remain focused. Nothing makes any sense, and he feels a distinct lack of concern, although his mind reminds him to remain alert. L intensely labors to remember exactly what had been so important mere moments before, and his eyes grow lax and dazed and he stares complacently at Raito's hands, entranced by their lithe grace in holding him upright.

Raito pulls him up into a sitting position, taking his head and pulling it closer to inspect the freshly bleeding wound before snorting in disgust. He steadies L against the wall and rises to his feet to leave, and L waits until he hears the distant sound of a door closing to collapse back onto the cold floor, heaving sickly as the nausea gets the best of him. It appears as though only a few minutes pass as Raito reenters the cold room, a small plastic box of medical supplies in hand. He kneels down and shakes L awake, forcing his eyes open before resting the older man's head in his lap while rummaging through the box. L drowsily opens his eyes when the acute sting of antiseptic burns his damaged scalp as Raito cleanses his wound. After several torturous moments where L is certain that the pain can get no worse, Raito pulls out a threaded suture needle from a small packet and sets to work. As the agony begins to overcome him, he drifts back and forth in a dissociated haze before succumbing to unconsciousness. Raito finishes the final stitch and upon seeing L completely incognizant, gently rests the detective's body back to the dismal gray concrete floor.

Although L will be completely unaware of it, Raito returns to his chair and watches over him that first night. After checking L's steady pulse every few hours, Raito finally leaves the room and secures it as day began to break. L is now his to control and punish, and the detective would pay dearly for his insolent attempt to destroy Kira. Raito will make sure that L had the chance to witness what kind of world he would create, and suffer humiliation at the hands of his new god. Once L came to realize the full extent of his failure, Raito would painfully end his life as an example to all, as to the heavy price of interference with Kira's plans. Raito would become the god of a new world, and L would be the first prized sacrifice on his private altar, for their embittered battle had become altogether personal.

A/N: The Latin phrase "homo homini lupus" means "man is a wolf to man" or "man is man's wolf". It's usually used to describe the capacity for humans to commit violence against mankind, and I felt it was a perfect choice to describe the events of this chapter, as well as a description of Kira's indifference to kill those he considers unworthy.


	2. Chapter 2

Huge and eternal thanks to my beta, Lio...hey girl, can't wait to see you in March! If you get the chance, go over to her page and show some love. Especially if you like Trigun and the Knives x Meryl pairing.

**Warning! Okay folks, this stuff is for a mature audience, although I suppose you can be a very immature adult and read it if you really want to :-P There is mention of drug use in this chapter, and I do NOT condone it's usage in real life, whatever the cause. I think this is common sense to most of you, but it bears repeating. Anyone who follows my work or even my inane suggestions from time to time is probably an idiot and in for a lot of pain. I once told someone to snort one of those liquid Icebreaker things...and they did. It was hilarious, and I filmed them with my camera phone and sent it to all my friends to show them what a stupid idea it really was. I also convinced someone that the easiest way to open a shotgun shell was to place it on the ground and hit the back of it with a hammer...but everyone around me stopped them before it was too late. I also convinced another unfortunate soul who was too lazy to read, "Taming of the Shrew" that the main character's name was Fellatio, and that he had a problem with keeping his mouth shut. What made this funnier was that she wrote all this down to deliver an oral report in front of an entire classroom of her peers...boy...was she really pissed afterwards! So in general, it's not a good idea to get ideas from me because I has a tiny bit of evil in my soul. Also, don't go kidnapping people who get in your way, no matter how hot you might think they really are. **

I apologize for the ramblings...now on with the story...

_**Fiat experimentum in corpore vili - Let the experiment be made on a body of no value **_

When L awakes for the second time in his captivity, he notices that the pain in his head has somewhat subsided, but his vision still wavers slightly, unable to truly see anything. It's still dark, or maybe it is dark again, the light that shines from underneath the door barely visible. He waits for his eyes to adjust when he notices something on the floor close to him. His fingers move hesitantly closer to touch what feels like a piece of Styrofoam, and once he confirms that it is exactly what it is, he pulls it closer to inspect it. Once his vision adjusts to the lack of light, he leans up slightly on his forearms, and opens the container to find white rice. He closes the container shut with a loud sigh, and pushes it further away. A bottle of water sits nearby, and L opens it quickly and drains the contents before he flattens his back against the cold floor. His muscles are weak and he is certain that the mild headache he still feels is the lingering aftereffect of a moderate concussion. His nausea has disappeared almost completely, but his stomach still aches with anxiety and he tries to curl up tighter on his side in a futile attempt to will the sensation away.

How long has he been unconscious? The food is cold, and the water was room temperature, which seems to indicate that it has sat there for some time. L switches over from his side to his back, irritated with the fact that no matter how he tries to rest, the floor is simply too cold to get reasonably comfortable. He listens in the darkness for a few brief moments when he realizes that he can hear the faint ticking of a clock. The longer he concentrates on it, the louder it seems to get. After what feels like an eternity, he pushes himself up and leans his back against the wall, and begins to fidget at how insanely bored he already is. His stomach growls and he suspiciously eyes the foam container in the dim light. He reached his free hand up to explore his scalp and discovers the small spiky threads of stitches that hold the wound together. Although he is confused as to why Raito would have even bothered with suturing the injury, the likelihood that Raito plans to keep him alive a little longer seems to be the obvious conclusion. It would make no sense for Raito to have administered medical care only to poison him a few hours later. L heavily breathes a reluctant sigh, clearly showing his displeasure before he crawls across the cold floor towards the food, pulling it forward and staring down at it with blatant disgust. There are no utensils provided and it's easy to comprehend how Raito would be reluctant to give him access to anything that could used as a weapon against him, although the comedic image of wiping the smug look from the killer's face with a plastic fork proves morbidly entertaining. L picks at the rice with nimble fingers and eats it warily, slightly repulsed at how bland it tastes as he hastily consumes it in an attempt to fill his stomach before a renewed wave of queasiness hits him.

"What now?", his thoughts echo to himself as he forces another mouthful down, ignoring the foreboding chill that had little to do with the temperature of the concrete and air around him. He tries to think of a plan that would allow him to escape his current situation, one that would prove to be more than an exercise in futility. In spite of his usual abilities, everything seems to run at slow motion inside of his mind. His brain works furiously to test various scenarios out mentally, as to which ones were less likely of success and those that seemed more practical given the finite circumstances he faces. Raito was meticulous, intelligent and ruthless, a deadly combination of elements in an enemy. With the powers of the Death Note and a willing lackey at his command, Raito could possibly be the most dangerous human being in the world. Thousands were dead by his hand, the brunet could effortlessly disable the governments of the world with mere intimidation and a small display of the powers he held. The simple fact that the Yagami boy had been able to play the part of innocence during the time of being chained to him infuriates the detective to no small measure. It is beyond clear now, that the teenager had been guilty all along. Why hadn't he been able to see it? No, wait, that was wrong. He had seen it clearly. L possessed the intuitive intelligence to pick up on the smallest of idiosyncrasies within every suspect he had ever watched. Why then, hadn't he been able to find even one small foreboding hint within the behavior of the other? His intuition had screamed of Raito's guilt, and yet not one hint of concrete evidence was ever revealed that linked him directly to the crimes. Yet the methodology had been present, the personality quirks of such perfectionist, such brilliance displayed inside of that genius sociopathic modus operandi. Kira's idiopathic tendencies would have played out easily in the personality profile he had carefully constructed of the other boy, the need for control and the calculated way that Raito analyzed everything fit too perfectly. He possessed powerful analytical skills, the ability to deduce logical scenarios within Kira's own thinking, there was no way that was all incidental. As a criminal, Kira had also shown his logical talents in being able to ascertain the method of killing with all it's variations and caveats, making L all too aware of the experimentation of his kills before his played his hand and murdered all 12 of the FBI agents. Kira was never intimidated, unlike most killers who went out of their way to throw the authorities off their scent. No, Kira never backed down from a challenge, it was all a game he had set out to win, playing with the lives of others like mere pawns on his personal chessboard. L had to admit, it had been an excellent move on Kira's part. Not only had he sent the message to the police force as to what would befall anyone who dared to act against him, but he had been able to shake the foundations of L's credibility with the American government as well as driving a hard wedge of distrust into the minds of the Japanese police force. For the first time, he had been forced to reveal himself in order to gain the help and cooperation he needed for the investigation, and in doing so he had realized that his heavily prized anonymity would be compromised. It all made perfect sense, in order for L to get close enough to catch Kira, he had to allow Kira the same opportunity, to get close enough to possibly kill him. Raito had been so willing to allow his imprisonment, he had offered himself up with a humble charm in front of the entire Task Force, making sure that his own father would be witness to the act. He had watched Raito, tried to calculate his everyday routine for any sign of the impending psychopathy Kira's god complex readily revealed. There had been nothing after that day in captivity, once Raito claimed that he needed to be rid of his pride, it was as if a amnesia had erased all the pretentiousness that he had seen beneath the surface and made his accusations all the more troubling. Even when he accused the other boy of being Kira, it was true anger and vexation at a false charge that Raito displayed, not the often seen overreaction and unrighteous indignation of a dangerous psychopath he had expected to encounter. Nothing in Raito's unconscious movements disclosed a shred of guilt by which to hang him, his act was flawlessly performed to such an extreme that it wouldn't have been too hard to think that maybe the boy had begun to believe his own perfect deception.

Frustrated, L jerks his captive wrist unhappily against the chain several times before halting altogether and resting his forehead against his knees. No one was looking for him, the Task Force and Watari were all dead, Kira had his name and held him captive in an unknown location. Given this information, the fact that he has suffered a concussion, and the state of his living conditions, L understands that he has very little time before the limited window of opportunity closed completely, sealing his fate. He is certain that Raito wants him dead, but he is also warily uncertain as to what the purpose of his imprisonment might be. Still, if Raito allowed him to use the bathroom or bathe, he needed to make sure he was capable of incapacitating his captor effectively and wouldn't face the wrath of Kira and the Death Note before he was able to locate and nullify Misa. There were too many factors against him, too many unknowns and everything relied on the slight chance that Raito would make at least one mistake. If he was ever presented with the chance to get away, it would be very slight and probably never repeated. The per cent um for surviving long enough to make his way to freedom dwindled steadily toward single digit numbers, the lack of incongruity that seemed to smack him right across the face when it settled within the range of 7%. L's eyes snap open when he perceives the ever present ticking of that unseen clock, like a hidden time bomb taunting him with sudden explosively macabre inevitability. He sighs for what feels like the thousandth time since he had wakened, closing his eyes and hating himself for the reemergence of memories that haunt him in their taunting accuracy.

_Like an invisible electric current that ran throughout the room, it had signaled to him that something bad was about to happen. It prickled his skin with growing anxiety, gnawing silently at his stomach and made him all the more agitated. He had nervously chewed the tip of his thumb, his mind whirring with every possibility since the events on the highway ending in Higuchi's death. The Death Note was poised between the fingertips of his other hand, all analysis of the object showed it to be of otherworldly origins, and the shinigami Rem drifted nearby as if to reaffirm the fact. His calculating gaze had fallen on his original suspect for a few fleeting moments as their eyes met. L had recently noticed that Raito seemed almost reluctant to leave his side for more than the few minutes he took to meet with Misa within the first floor of the building before returning. Why had Raito refused to leave the building and the investigation room for more than a few minutes at a time before returning to study him with such demanding vigilance? Raito's stare seemed almost gloating before he smiled casually and L nodded in a silent acknowledgment, turning away suddenly with an uncomfortable feeling that he was still being watched. He had experienced the same disturbing sensation several times before, only to confirm that Raito was indeed observing him with a seemingly predacious hunger. L had froze in that second, pondering as to why he still felt the chafing pull of metal against the flesh of his wrist, as if an imaginary chain still bound him to the boy. However, he was now the one held captive in that fixated stare, analyzed and assessed. He had been convinced that the young man would have been happy to be free to leave once he was rid of the handcuffs that had kept him barely over an arm's length away. In the beginning, L had been resolute that he would be able to ascertain Raito's guilt, yet nothing about the calculating megalomaniac he expected to condemn was betrayed from beneath that impeccable facade. His intuition screamed at him that the boy had become Kira once again, but with the revelation of the Death Note as the all important method of killing, he had only been presented with even more unanswered questions, as the Task Force all but demanded that Raito be set free. The seemingly innocent young man had played his hand well and L had grown certain that even if he had found evidence that had condemned Raito to a rightful execution that everyone would still be reluctant to send such a charming, demure creature to an early death. His lack of social skills and interaction had been trumped and devalued by the unforeseeable enigma that was Yagami Raito. The boy seemed to have the natural power of manipulation over others, effortlessly pulling their strings like a master puppeteer. A simple smile from those pathological lying lips could sway favors from most young women, while his earnest, warm golden eyes practically radiated honesty and trustworthiness. The circumstances leading up to his installment by L's side had seamlessly incorporated him into the investigation and enabled him to size up his adversary with an uncanny accuracy. Too many times the boy had eerily guessed at his thoughts and had been dead on the mark. Never before, had L ever encountered someone who could so precisely predict the essence of his theories with such raw wit and insight. It had all been too convenient, and it was only once L had realized the full potential of his opponent had he also concluded that he was probably too late to stop the torrent of events set into motion. He had never suspected that Kira would be so thorough, calculating, charming and so... **exceptional** .The capture and death of Higuchi convinced him that the mysterious powers that Kira possessed had come full circle, and a premonition of death had haunted him in those last few days. It would only be a matter of time before he was presented with the truth, he had felt it in his very bones..._

L raises his head, and it was in that moment that he senses something is very wrong. The room tips to one side, and he swiftly determines that he had once again been drugged. His mind still retains some ability to reason, but it was nowhere near his normal capacity. His head thuds abruptly against the wall and stays there, his lungs willing him to breath slow and deep. He had not tasted anything amiss other than the bland quality of the rice, but then again, his senses are probably off due to acquiring a head injury and from the injection Raito had used to sedate him. He loathes the way the substance in his veins dulls his thinking, but he isn't completely incapable of sorting out logical conclusions. It simply takes longer, and L briefly wonders if this is closer to what it's like to think like a normal person, constantly trying to judge as to whether or not the thoughts bouncing around inside of his mind make any sense. It's taxing and frustrating at the same time, and L wishes he could sleep to make the time pass quicker.

Abruptly, the door to his concrete prison swings open, as it startles him awake. Apparently, he had been able to drift off to sleep after what seemed to be endless hours of insane chatter inside of his head. The same blinding white light click on overhead and L squints his eyes to determine his enemy. Raito glances down, and smirks as he observes the empty water bottle tipped over on it's side.

_Ah,_ L deduces silently to himself. It was the water which had been tampered with. It made the most sense, really. The names of several drugs rattle through his recollection, as he starts sorting between those that are tasteless, colorless, and easily soluble in water. The average human could go longer without food, but sooner or later he would be forced by thirst to drink. It had simply been a matter of time.

He cringes as Raito unexpectedly reaches down and grabs his captive wrist, fastening on a pair of handcuffs. L barely has time to process what has happened when he is suddenly pulled to his feet, and pushed forward. He realizes he is being steered across the room when he sees there is a door in the far corner, along with what appears to be rusty pipes sticking out of the wall and through the ceiling. Dingy pale green and peeling blue paint reveal the door to be metal and rusted, as Raito opens it , and shoves him inside of total darkness. A graceful hand flips the switch to his immediate right, and the soft hum of fluorescents buzz on overhead revealing what appears to be a small bathroom bathed in a sickly green hue, with a toilet, a sink, and a bathtub. L yawns softly, there seems to be nothing dangerous over the mundane setting and he's thankful for the respite from trying to guess what might happen next. At least his captor is allowing him access to proper facilities, even if they are below the standard he is used to. Raito bends down and pulls a chain that is wrapped around the pipes beneath the sink, and fastens a cuff to one of his wrists. He removes the handcuffs and grants L a deadly smile, which causes a new wave of nausea to bubble up in the back of his throat. After yanking on the chain for several minutes to insure that L is secure and incapable of freedom, he declares,

"Good, you have enough room to move around and take care of what you need to. I will give you a couple minutes to yourself, and then I will move you back. Understood?"

L nods lightly, feeling slightly inept at anything resembling deep, meaningful conversation. His mind questions relentlessly, but no matter how hard he tries to concentrate on speech, he is unable to focus on anything more than the immediate task at hand. Raito closes the door behind him, and all L can ruminate on is the fact that the door lacks a proper lock. It's a false sense of privacy he has been given for a few moments, but for the most part it is a welcome relief from the monotony of the bare concrete he has had the displeasure of staring at in near darkness. Once he finishes with his basic necessities, he leans over the sink and washes his face with cold water in an attempt to awaken from the borderline stupor that incapacitates him. He opens his eyes to see that Raito has opened the door and observing him with a ravening stare. L immediately glances at the floor, noting the mismatched tiles, and the darkened grout between them. That gaze has sent chills down his spine, but he doesn't understand why Raito would even consider looking at him in such a way, imagining it to be another way to intimidate and humiliate him further. Although this conclusion makes logical sense, the dark haired man feels considerably embarrassed and awkward. Swiftly, Raito grabs the chain attached to his wrist and yanks him forward, grasping his throat in a tight vice like grip. L gasps as his aggressor shakes him, closing his eyes and trembling uncontrollably, fearing that his previous assumptions have been mistaken and that perhaps Raito means to kill him right then and there. His free hand fastens onto Raito's shirt, trying to push himself away when the younger man forces him closer, and L finds that he is unbearably close enough to feel the warm breath of his assailant upon his cheek. He's not used to such close proximity with anyone, much less Kira, who continues to regard him with terrible intensity like a predator fixated on a chunk of bloody meat. He doesn't want to shake beneath that glare but it's impossible to not react with his senses reeling, inebriated into submission.

Raito considers him for a moment, although L has been drugged with a small dose of Rophynol, it's not enough to knock him unconscious. There is an almost delicious sense of vulnerability in L's weakened state, it would be so tempting to torment the detective further, if only to watch him tremble like this. His thin frame is easy to push around, L is off balanced and the questioning look in his eyes betrays his thoughts. So many times, he had endured the constant scrutiny of those wide, unforgiving dark eyes. He can feel the strong pulse in that delicate neck beneath his fingertips, the pale curve of the thin shoulder readily divulges how defenseless this man is to stop him from doing anything he wants. A powerful surge of arousal runs through his body, shocking and delighting him at once. Raito quickly releases his hold of L, who falls to his knees, prostrate and clutching his neck, choking violently as he tries to regain his breath. L's position before him does nothing to stop the thrill chasing throughout him as he struggles to regain his composure from how exhilarated and disgusted he feels. He snaps out, bitter and angry,

" I could kill you so easily at this moment. If it wasn't for the fact that I want you to live so you can suffer a little longer, I would strangle that scrawny neck of yours and watch as the life faded from your dying eyes. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to watch you die in my very hands, you deserve nothing better than death for ever trying to stop me."

Raito grabs a handful of raven hair, pulling L violently to his feet as the older man lets out a startled cry. He feels the sadistic urge to prove his power over the other, to inflict pain upon him and savor his defeat. L cowers against the onslaught of punches that begin to rain down upon his exposed ribcage, not able to stop the whimpering cries as he slams against the tiled wall, unable to properly defend himself. The attack ceases as promptly as it has begun, and L shivers in a tight ball in a nearby corner, his hands protecting his head from further harm. Raito exhales heavily, as he reaches down and removes the cuff and reattaches the handcuffs. He shoves L's yielding form savagely back into the concrete room, and chains him down to the floor once more.

L waits until he hears that door slam shut and the darkness overwhelms him before he uncurls, grimacing as sharp pains in his side stutter his breathing. No matter how hungry or thirsty he becomes, he can not allow himself to consume anything Raito offers him. The drug is too potent in his system to reason effectively, his chances of escaping under it's influence all but none.

His chances for getting out of this situation alive dwindles into nonexistence. Finally, the substance dulls his pain as well as his awareness and he drifts into an uncertain sleep.

**A/N I'd like to thank everyone for their reviews, I appreciate them with all my heart! However, one really did cause me to wonder, and it has to do with the usage of Light vs. Raito. My first exposure to the series was through heavily subtitled anime and douijin, where "Raito" is used in written form...although I know that it's basically a pronunciation of the name "Light". I simply preferred it for this fic because I wanted to pay a little respect to all those wonderful subtitles that allowed me to experience this anime and eventually this fandom and the wonderful people in it. So what do you think? To add to the senseless rambling already there and to simply take up more of your time, I've added a poll to my profile page, if you get a chance, go vote! **


	3. Chapter 3

Seriously, I've been bitten by the writing bug! Isn't bipolar mania great! I absolutely love when I'm able to scribble something that others can actually comprehend! Woo hoo!!! I've been holding onto this chapter for a little while now...don't get too excited by this sudden rampage of productivity...I've been working on the next chapter titled_ Asphyxia_ for months now...it had originally been meant as a one shot but my desire to write a storyline leading up to the scene won out. I'm honestly glad for it, because there is something absolutely terrific about writing for others for a change, instead of letting these wicked thoughts simply bounce around in my own head.

_**O! Plus! Perge! Aio! Hui! Hem!**_ - That's Latin for "_Oh! More! Go on! Yes! Ooh! Ummm!_ "

Again, I luvs the reviews! It lets me know that you, the reader, want to see more. I'd rather be writing than doing housework! See? I now have a huge pile of laundry and dishes awaiting me..*sniffs*...I really hates cleaning but it needs to be done. I has procrastinated enough for today...

_**Nolens Volens~ whether willing or unwilling**_

There is nothing of great importance to be gained from staring around in that dreadful room. The bare concrete walls amplify every sound that he makes, the constant ticking of the unseen clock just outside the room echoing his mind into an irritable mental agitation. At one time L had thought that nothing could ever deter his mind from the constant rambling of thoughts that had filtered through his consciousness, but he had been wrong. At this moment, all he can think about is tearing down that damning metal door and ripping that despised time piece into contemptible little shreds. Sitting before him within easy reach is another Styrofoam container and two bottles of water. He's still groggy from the last bottle of water he had dared to drink, so he refuses to budge from his position even though he desperately thirsts.

Several hours pass, the light shining beneath the door grows dimmer as he is gradually encircled by darkness. Within the unlit shadows, the near frigid air chills his skin unbearably, and he starts to shiver, unable to avoid the cold concrete surfaces he is compelled to rest against. His insomnia forces him to endure his circumstances to an almost dizzying degree, and he curses the fact that sleep never comes without extreme effort for him. This unusual alertness fights against him, and it doesn't make logical sense anymore. Why is it that he can stay awake for so many hours, sometimes days, without rest and he has never felt so worn out as he does now? He needs something to mentally alleviate his ennui, his nameless hours, or else he knows that he will lapse into anger and indifference.

Is Kira trying to tell him something? Did Raito feel this oppressive boredom before picking up the Death Note and making the decision to murder without guilt? Had the ticking of the classroom clock proven to be too much to his unchallenged mind, finally driving him over the edge once he found a homicidal outlet by which to influence the world? He wondered long would it take before he himself reached the point of apathy. What would happen then, would he eventually fall into despair knowing that Kira had won? He recalls the time when Raito had first been chained to him, the pointed dismay at his sudden inability to see anything of value in the boy's daily routine. L had become certain that he would never observe Raito in anything but the perfect portrayal of innocence as long as they were joined together. It had been a battle of wills, to see who could hold out the longest. L had stopped putting effort into chasing what he knew was right in front of him, it had angered Raito to no end to know that L would wait until something transpired. It had worked in the Yagami boy's favor, he had been given the advantage of first hand observations of his enemy. It was something that L had never realized would be so useful to Kira. It made his current incarceration all the more fatal.

It's easy to lose track of time, so when L jumps with a start and sees the subdued gleam streaming in, he lies as flat as he can and squints to see if he can determine anything. His first glances reveal nothing, and he is unable to see anything identifiable from his limited line of sight. He sits back up, and upon hearing the incessant tocktact of the invisible clock, he howls out in a momentary frenzy and pounds his fists against the wall. He has no idea how many days it has been since he had witnessed the murder of the Task Force. Five days, a week, perhaps even longer? He is unsure of how long he had slept under the influence of the hypodermic or the drugged water. It makes no difference in the end.

He is still Kira's prisoner, and he wonders how his anger towards Raito could become anymore intense than it already is. He hates Kira with such ferocity that it literally washes over him with a tsunami of emotions. Never before has he felt so passionately towards another human being, even with all the years he has been a detective, he had stayed emotionally distant. It had been the responsible thing to do, to maintain objectivity in the face of human atrocity. Many times he had watched others become angry or disgusted by the violent scenes that crime scene photos portrayed, losing the ability to pick out the minute details as to _why _the murderer had chosen the victim in question. This had always played to his advantage, being able to interpret the mindset of the criminal he was pursuing. That ability no longer applied to Kira, while Raito was able to predict his thoughts with eerie accuracy, changing his tactics to influence and control his motives through predicted systematic planning. L had become another pawn on Kira's chessboard, it was only a matter of time before he was taken out of the game completely.

In the beginning, he had been able to determine Kira's actions, but once he had confronted Yagami Raito, there had been no need for open conjecture. Raito had happily given his thoughts as Kira, making no effort to hide how closely he was able to match the killer's thoughts and actions. Of course, it was the perfect premeditated strategy. L would have known if he was lying had he tried to conceal his involvement, it was simpler to put on the act and inject an ounce of truth into it. Only L and Kira could have known the possibility of a second Kira, and yet Raito had willingly let him know that he was aware of the impersonation. L had been beyond certain that he would be able to wipe the smug look from Kira's face once he was able to slice a huge piece of humble pie with Occam's razor and send him to his execution. His own arrogance had gotten in the way of anticipating how far Raito was willing to go to see his enemy subjugated and dispatched.

This in turn had given Raito the leverage and the confidence he needed to gain access to the Task Force and all the information on the Kira investigation. After his imprisonment, L had kept his word and Raito close by. He had anticipated Kira's aggressive need to confront and defeat him, yet he had felt up to the challenge after that day of the tennis match. Kira wanted to win, he would stop at nothing to win. L had been right about those things in the end, for as much as it did for his current chagrin, even the scenario where Yagami Soichiro had faked an execution and Raito had been released. Kira wouldn't care about anyone that got in his way, not even that of his own father. He recollects the moment Raito had stepped closer to him to leer with that wicked smile, merely compensating his stride to accommodate for his father's dying body beneath him. There had been no regret, not even a second thought of remorse over what he had doomed his own flesh and blood to suffer. How had Raito explained his father's absence to his family? Had they all met the same fate as well, or was the young diabolical genius now the pitied son of a fallen officer? The idea gnawed into his brain, twisting the incensed notion to churn deep inside of him, making hunger all the more prevalent.

It is then that he hears the creaking of the rusty hinges as Raito's form comes to stand before him. L doesn't even bother to look up, he's not in the mood to play with the psychopath today. He is already lightheaded and ignoring the all too familiar headache pounding away in his temples. Anything he says will be tainted with anger and frustration, and neither response will gain him a positive outcome. His ribs are painfully sore from his last attack, and he has no intention of instigating another beating. Raito bends down on one knee, and L sees that he has another white container in his hand, as he merely picks the other up and replaces it with the new one. This time, however, he flips the lid open, and L can see that a piece of cake sits inside of it, a perfect strawberry sitting atop of tantalizing white icing. The nerve of that intolerable bastard! L suddenly wishes to be free of his bonds long enough to strangle the Yagami boy's throat, thinking that such an act would temporarily satisfy his ire.

He looks away, gritting his teeth and trying his best to keep his stoic, emotionless face, but his stomach betrays him and growls urgently. Raito can see that L is almost sluggish and weak from lack of food, and some nameless emotion stirs within him. L is probably too stressed from starvation to be a threat to him, even if he were to release him from the chain. However, he isn't about to take pity long enough to make a fatal miscalculation concerning his captive, or underestimate how far L is willing to go to regain his freedom and kill him. There is a repressed anger in the endless gaze L is directing towards the floor, and Raito takes momentary joy in knowing that the detective is fighting with himself not to react. It wouldn't take much to push him into acting out of hand, then Kira could punish him for his insolent behavior and do as he pleased. There is no way for L to escape his attentions today, the flawless Catch-22. His prisoner didn't want to eat or drink for fear of being drugged again. This simply would not do. His captor glances down at him and states,

"You are going to have to eat something eventually. I don't want you to get sick from starving yourself. You do like cake, don't you L? I believe this is your favorite, as many times as I watched you down slice after slice of it on a regular basis. Be a good boy and eat every bite, and I will let you take a bath."

L can't help but to close his eyes and curl into a tighter ball, grasping his arms around his legs, hoping that maybe if he ignores the other boys presence that he will simply go away. He doesn't think it will work, but it's nothing to put in the effort to find out. After a few minutes pass, Raito realizes that he isn't going to say anything, watching with a fierce intent upon the exposed skin the detective's shirt reveals, but decides to continue to provoke him,

"Is this really necessary? I know you are trying to ignore me, L. Stop with the childish passive aggressive silent treatment and at least give me the courtesy of a response. The very least you can do is show a little politeness, I know from the time we spent together that while you insist on bad manners that you do know how to be civil when it suits you. I'm trying my best to see to your needs, to make sure that you are well taken care of. Doesn't it make sense to show me a little respect?"

At this, L lifts his head to face him with the only response that he can truly use to answer the welling of rage inside of him, shocking himself with the level of vehemence that the shaking in his voice denounces,

"Go. To. Hell."

Raito turns to him with a maddeningly smug look, an unfeigned smile dancing fleetingly upon those smirking lips. The sudden zeal behind L's intensely infuriated eyes arouses an exquisite longing in him to force his captive down and oblige every sick fantasy he has ever entertained, before he salaciously retorts,

"I'm sorry to inform you that anyone who uses a Death Note to kill another human cannot go to Hell."

L huffs in annoyance, undeterred by the suddenness of Kira's good mood, but is disquieted nonetheless,

"That hardly seems fair that you stand the possible chance of redeeming yourself enough to go to a Heaven of anyone's making." Raito stands and recovers his chair from the corner, sits down and replies,

"No, that's not the case either. I believe the exact rule is, "The human who uses this note can neither go to Heaven nor Hell." All the more reason to create my utopia here on Earth."

The detective does his best to suppress a laugh, while it's not in his best interest of his welfare, ruining Kira's chances at gloating seems worth the effort,

"Ah, that makes better sense. I wonder how Kira-kun will survive an eternity in nothingness? Hell might not exist for one such as you, but the void of all things would be harder to withstand, especially if you retain any form of conscious thought. How long before Raito-kun becomes irrepressibly bored with his own version of purgatorial emptiness?How long before he begs for an end to his mental tedium, only to realize it will never come?"

L is almost thrilled when he is rewarded with a scowl from the other, who now stares back with a lethal glare, before grinning poisonously,

"I'm not sure, Lawliet, maybe you could tell me? No? Perhaps it is too soon to ask such a question. I'm certain that in time, you will most certainly know the answer."

Raito glances back down to see that the dark haired man has turned his head once again, frowning and cringing slightly as he tries to shift his position. He speculates that his desire to hit the other boy while he was defenseless has left bruises across that flawless pale skin. Kira craves to see the extent of his rage, the beautiful blemishes he has created on that perfect human canvas, before adding more and sinking his teeth into the flesh of his enemy, while those wonderful helpless cries for mercy greet his ears. Raito shifts uncomfortably as he is aware of how painfully excited he is, and it becomes apparent to him to what extent he desires to gain power over his prisoner.

There was no need to be embarrassed by this, he had no qualms in doing as he pleased with his enemy. At first his sudden lust for terrorizing the older man had dazed him with it's intensity, but it was shortly thereafter that Raito understood his current obsession with overwhelming his foe. They were intellectual equals, L had been the only individual in all his years to ever truly challenge him, that pulled him out of the mundane routine that had permeated his life before that black note had fallen from the sky. The Death Note had given him purpose and clarity, but defeating L gave him a sense of personal fulfillment and a dark desire that intoxicated his senses. Keeping that dangerous mind prisoner while being able to gratify himself with the powerless man's body was the most pleasurable venture he had dared to experience. He would take everything from L, in a slow tedious way that would drive the man before him to the limits of his sanity, before he had no choice but to crumble before Kira in abject servility. It made perfect sense for the moment, to try and lull L into a false sense of security in order to take advantage of his helplessness. Raito sighs heavily and declares,

"It was wrong of me to hurt you when you had done nothing to deserve punishment the last time we spoke. I let my personal feelings get in the way of the fact that you were incapable of stopping me, and I used it to my advantage. If you agree to behave properly, I will treat you better."

L replicates his mask of indifference as he surveys the other for intent, but he's perplexed as to why Kira would bother with anything resembling regret, although he is not fooled by it,

"Is this meant to be Kira-kun's attempt at an apology?"

The other boy is quick to point out his mistake and corrects him,

'No, I have no need to apologize for what I've done. I was merely stating a fact. The truth is that you deserved a good beating for all the times you abused your authority over me, constantly blackmailing me with death and for kicking me in the face."

L bothers to glimpse at those hungry golden orbs that hold him once more in a lubricious fashion, dreading at what this might mean to him if the younger decides to act upon it,

"Blackmailing you? You mean, convicting you of the heinous crimes you happen to be guilty of? My, what on Earth was I thinking, sending a monster like you to a righteous capital punishment?Why even bother with telling me such a thing? Unless you intend on telling me why you felt the need to injure me, you have no real justifications for your actions. At least none that aren't skewed by your inability to see how defective your sociopathic notions have made you."

Raito's eyes are cold and unforgiving, L can't help but tremble slightly despite the fact that he feels something other than retribution at what he expects the other to say, there is some undefinable quality in the weighted stare of his warden and he wants nothing to do with it.

"If you really must know, I wanted to see you in pain. I wanted to hurt you, to watch you suffer, to hear those pretty little whimpers you make when I punched you. I needed you to understand that I'm more than capable of wounding you without the slightest sense of remorse."

L nods in a clinical manner, he swallows with difficulty at the honesty in those abruptly spoken words. Kira had gained pleasure from his torment, the ravening stare eating through him even now was heavy with insidious amounts of innuendo, as his trembling begins to appear more pronounced,

" I see. Yagami-kun is a sadist as well as a murderer."

Raito continues to stare down his prey with what can only be considered perverse longing to the point it's inconsiderate and rude, until L finally breaks eye contact in uncomfortable silence. Raito is thrilled with this reaction and also glances away, but only long enough to visibly ponder the statement his enemy has made, before finally agreeing with it,

"Yes, I suppose so. Do you plan on eating or drinking anytime in the next three days, or will I be forced to hold you down and tranquilize you into submission once again? I wanted to thank you, by the way, for supplying me with everything I would need to hold you hostage here. I daresay there are enough pharmaceuticals within the confines of your headquarters to keep you captive and compliant indefinitely for the rest of your life, no matter how long...or short it may be. Did you ever believe that you would have need of them with me stalking around?"

L doesn't meet his fixated glower, Kira finds that he is inexorably fascinated with how easily he can influence the man chained before him with a simple look. L's lack of social skills have ill prepared him to combat the manipulative nature that runs amok in his psyche, it's a elementary game of cause and effect that he plays over and over again with entertaining results.

"Yes. I prepared for every eventuality, including your incarceration and execution."

The grin reappears on Raito's face as he concludes,

"Not every eventuality it would appear. "

L sighs dejectedly and quietly confirms,

" No. Apparently not."

It's almost alarming how swiftly L merely concedes with his last statement, and doesn't bother to further engage him on a verbal level. The fatigued appearance of L's face is more haggard than before, and Raito notices that he shivers and tries to rest against the wall to wrap his hands around the bottom of his feet in an attempt to warm them. He rises from his seat, and L continues to stare down at the floor as if he's infinitely fascinated with the barren concrete. Once Raito exits, he leaves the door cracked merely a fraction of the way, and the detective can hear indistinct noises on the other side, but his visual acuity is lacking in taking in the finer details of what appears to be better lighting outside of the room.

Raito reappears within minutes, and L is in awe when the younger man tosses a woolen blanket at his feet. It is ugly and torn at one end, but in that instant it is perhaps the most wonderful thing L has seen since his incarceration. He turns his disbelieving gaze to Raito, who prompts him cheerfully,

"Now, what do we say when someone is nice to us?"

L pauses and then softly grants Raito the answer he is silently awaiting,

"T-thank you, Raito-san."

"Mm hm." He grins as he quietly closes the door and locks it. The expression of L's face had been one of surprise and gratitude, and part of him wants to see it again. He is aware of the fact that L will be reluctant to give him what he truly wishes for, and part of him regrets the unavoidable circumstance of having to murder his sole distraction from the fawning revulsion of Misa's affections. Perhaps he can stand to bed her tonight, with his thoughts focused on the vivid imagery of L cowered before him, obsequious and yearning to please his master.

Yes, that thought entertained and delighted him to no end.

**A/N ** Ta da! I'm just so happy, everyone around me is threatening to murder me. All I can think about is cherry flavored Twizzlers, but before I go register for classes, I feel there is something more I need to say. I don't want to give the plot away, but there will be some moments that will squick some of you. Tragic things will happen, it's not that I don't like fic where L and Raito end up emotionally overwhelmed with one another...I absolutely adore sexual tension...but this is a very dark version of the usual "Oh lookie, that bastard Kira has taken L prisoner again in another deluded fanfic plot...let's see what hap...OMG! I can't believe someone wrote that! Is there no fluff in this story at all?!"

Nope, none. A few brief moments like those above, but seriously, Kira is a bastard. But you know that already.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N Okay, I apologize. I am a liar, I admit that. I promised a certain chapter, and after I started writing on it again, it grew to monstrous proportions. For the sake of length, I have shorted it into two separate chapters. However, I will post both of them within a short time of each other, because I feel incredibly guilty over my incessant need to keep adding things left and right. Hopefully, my compulsive nature and it's tendency to over obsess proves beneficial in the end. I've been from Ohio to Miami, and everywhere in between and I've been horribly busy when I'm not driving! I really should be getting ready for a pow wow now...but I'm posting this chapter instead. See? This shows my dedication to fan-fic over really, truly awesome fry bread.

Aw, I love the reviews, I really, really do! That's why you will get two chapters soon, and may neither of them disappoint.

_**Hic Sunt Leones ~ A phrase often written on old maps to denote unknown territories which means "Here be lions"**_

This day was different from any other that he had experienced since that fateful night. After hours of decent sleep, curling contently within that awful avocado hued blanket, L finds himself unwilling to wake up for the first time in his life. He nestles further underneath the half covering his body, fingering the texture of the material beneath him in a vague attempt to convince himself that the object is indeed real. It works, and within a few minutes he fades back into slumber, warm and complacent for the moment. It matters not how long he rests, only that he is able to thwart the endless hours of nothingness with unconsciousness. It is a welcome relief, in such that he doesn't bother to analyze, for there will be plenty of time for conjecture once he is forced to waken.

After many hours, a yawn emerges from beneath the barely moving lump hidden beneath the green wool. A cautious eye peers from under the torn edge, to stare with trepidation at the water and the stale cake before him. He blinks slowly for a moment, before sitting up with a determined flourish of energy, hurriedly scooping up finger fulls of stale cake and icing before guzzling the chilled water with something just short of joyous exuberance. If he didn't known better, he could have sworn that the old confect had been the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. It no longer matters if the items are drugged, he can't taste anything amiss with either and his stomach is happy with his short relinquishment of apprehension. Perhaps if it is drugged, it will enable him to sleep longer.

L is satisfied with this reasoning, and he hides back below his only source of warmth. He savors the escape from the chilled air, relishing the soft fibers encasing his body and silently ponders. All those years he had access to a soft bed, clean linens, warm blankets and piles of voluminous pillows, yet the last thing to ever cross his mind was sleep. No, it had all been about the chase, the intrepid thrill of piecing clue after clue together to form a framework of guilt so that others could see. He had sacrificed the little things here and there to achieve his goal. Now he misses the relative ease and luxury he had once so easily ignored.

It had fascinated him from an early age, his ability to sense and assimilate leaps and bounds ahead of his peers. He understood in all embracing terms how this sense of knowledge isolated him from others around him, even those of comparable intellect. He had accepted his lacking in societal norms and the relative ease of privacy that solitude had afforded him. It had been so much easier, without the constant questioning to mire his efficiency. Others judging, his methods, the relentless way he would mentally pursue information without proper sleep or diet. Although he often told others that his high sugar intake was necessary to fuel his intellect, the other reason was that it helped to keep him alert and steadied his faltering glucose levels once his physical body had reached it's limit.

Had it truly been necessary to deprive himself of something so basic, so instinctive and comforting as compared to what this one simple act by Kira had done? It was pure lunacy to believe there wasn't an ulterior motive to Raito's actions, he had been astounded at first, but it made flawless sense. It was the same game they had started that day on the tennis court, the latent hostility. They would always be playing against each other, waiting for one of them to act so the other could counteract accordingly. However, there was no need for discovery now, this was the endgame. It was all or nothing, and no small act of feigned kindness would change the outcome. It was a lot like the humane treatment of cattle, right before they are lead to slaughter.

L isn't about to be duped by Raito's hospitable display of deception. His stomach feels a slight discomfort that he does his best to dismiss. He can easily rationalize Raito's motivations, the young man clearly wants him dead, yet it fails to explain the inkling of grief and sadness scrambling beneath his collected facade. Yes, he had befriended Kira during that time they had been bound to one another, although he always knew the boy to be incredibly guilty. All his life, he had spent alone and unchallenged, yet now that he faces certain death he is struck with the horrible realization that he had also privately desired for his deductions to be incorrect.

No, his current sorrow was for allowing himself to fall into this situation to begin with. His mind starts to lightly spin and he leans his head back and lets out a small utterance. It's simply a small sound, but it echoes off the bare walls and he realizes that it's the first sound he's heard since the beginning of his captivity. The hidden clock continues to tick relentlessly, damning the present with the precise division of an anonymous hour, bearing no distinction from one second to the next. It's really beginning to bother him more than simple annoyance, and he considers if Raito has purposefully arranged the cursed timepiece just outside the door to torment him, or if it's just highly coincidental. In either case, the effect is same whether it's intentional or not.

What bothers him more, is the darkly wicked glare of lust his captor had held him in. He has seen that look in the eyes of others, but never once in the younger man. On the contrary, not even Misa's tactic of adorning revealing attire or physically throwing herself upon him had seemed to make any impression on the teenager's repressed hormones. If anything, he had appeared bored and almost insulted by the constant invitations to intimacy, as if he was secretly repulsed by the mere suggestion of anything sexual with his adorable girlfriend. It was odd to consider, since most young men his age would revel in the opportunity to bed the beautiful model.

L had not been overtly shocked by such a confirmation. Kira wouldn't want to invest true recognition into anyone who was too far from his own intellectual theater, unless it was to further himself and his maniacal schemes for world domination. Raito might have started out with pure intentions, but the insidious allure of the Death Note had corrupted his once shining vision of a crime free utopia and tainted it with shades of arrogance and malevolence.

Raito had feigned interest in the young woman on his behalf, to "further the investigation."At the time, the guarded teenager had balked at the idea of leading the emotionally naive beauty on, but had relented with casual enough ease. As long as Raito put on a thick sugary coating of sincerity for his ever present adoring spectators, his newly recruited defensive backup aligned with the absolute minimum of required effort. He had made the necessary interactions with Misa, but the amount of disdain he regarded her with was obvious, his quick words and bare tolerance were evident to the detective's tingling perceptions.

However, to grant him with such hungered looks was absolutely ludicrous, it was nothing more than a nasty trick to throw him off guard. There was no deviation from the profile he had so carefully constructed of the power hungry psychopath. Kira understood the ready evidence that his inculpable alter ego had gathered from his months in constant scrutiny, the undeniable fact that L was truly an isolated individual, socially uncomfortable with direct contact and human interaction. What better way to test his vigilance and questioning nature than to overwhelm him within such unknown noetic territory? The knowledgeable detective easily comprehended the drives and motivations and the general mechanics of sexual behavior, but retained almost no personal experience pertaining as to how to respond to such advances. Indeed, he had never expected to receive such attentions from another individual, least of all his highly attractive male murder suspect.

Wait, when did he decide that Raito was highly attractive? Was it merely an accepted concept he had simply acquiesced to, for the overall agreement of the majority? There was no sense of attraction for the younger man, L refuses to allow himself to feel anything but hatred towards the killer, his possible cause of death. There can never be anything but pure revulsion between them, and Kira's entire purpose for containing him here is a testimony to that end.

Raito was arrogant, but Kira exceeded the usual bounds of vainglorious contempt. No, there was unspoken hubris that burned in those conceited golden eyes. L shivers when he remembers that lewd stare, and he resolves to shake the daunting memory with more applicable issues, namely the possible circumstances for escape and how to effectively nullify Kira without killing himself in the process. He had very little time in which to test the boundaries of the notebook, unlike Raito who had dually used the object from the very beginning to test his theories and taunt L into finding him. The added bonus of course, was to bring both enemies within spitting distance of one another, a challenge that L had readily felt up to facing. However, in his current position, that same anticipation hardly ripples through his collected thoughts, it is a simple situation of escape or die. He must succeed or die in the process of trying, there are no other alternatives.

The dizzying spin of his vision once again begins to overwhelm him, and he silently curses his thirst as the drug usurps the speed at which his mind usually functions. It would seem that lately, Raito had started to adjust the dosage of the tranquilizer to a level that kept him sedate but coherent, yet he can easily nap in the meantime to give his body rest. L rationalizes this as regaining his strength for the one perfect moment when his enemy slips, although he has never had to kill anyone with his own hands, he confidently believes that Kira might be the overall exception to the rule.

The weary detective smiles at the thought of strangling Raito, imagining the not so flattering look upon his otherwise fine features as the boy relinquishes his life beneath his pale, meticulous grasp as he curls up once again into his warm retreat. For once, his dreams are pleasant visions of murder and revenge and he doesn't allow his sense of conscience to override the conception of violence and rage, for he must be prepared in all aspects of what he might have to do in order to bring Kira's reign of terror to an end.

Time begins to pass very quickly, and sometimes not at all. L awakens every time Raito presents himself from that shining glorious doorway, it no matter where it leads to as long as it's away from that detestable cold concrete room. Although the process is not precise, he can hypothesize that his captor shows up twice a day to feed him and allow him to relieve himself, and estimates that over a week has passed since he became coherent enough to comprehend such a concept. He is pushed into the shower once, and allowed the privacy to wash himself in peace and quickly dresses before being escorted back to his loathsome position of being chained to the wall. There is such a security in the established routine that it takes him a moment to realize that the chain has grown longer and that a small pillow and another blanket have been added, as well as another meal and more bottles of water. L suddenly feels the need to say something, and it comes out as sounding more grateful that he readily intends,

"Thank you, Raito-san, for thinking of my comfort in a time such as this. I had half believed that you might leave me here to die after all."

Raito blinks in surprise, but then regains his sense of confidence and replies,

"That is not how I intend to treat a good friend. You have been a very good boy recently, it only stands to reason that I should reward you for exceptional behavior. Try not to place too much importance on such small gestures."

Although the words that come from Kira's lips tell him to trivialize these small acts of kindness, the sudden steely glint in that punishing stare tells him to do the exact opposite. Raito leaves without anymore explanation and L is once again left to ponder the bizarre behavior exhibited by his warden.

More days follow the exact same pattern, and L mentally chalks the time line up to almost two weeks, noticing that he is not the subject of anymore of those disturbing glances, and begins to feel somewhat relieved that perhaps Raito has decided not to pursue whatever ridiculous notions he had once held for psychological torment. That capricious idealization is quickly dispelled when there is a sudden change in the clockwork of the established routine, when L is pushed towards the bathroom that Raito has prepared for him, and registers that the tub is filled halfway with frothy bubbles. He takes a moment to shoot his enemy a confused look, but Raito's expression is serene and unreadable as always. The chain from beneath the sink is attached once his shirt is removed, and he waits a moment for seclusion. The moment quickly passes into minutes, and then begins to grow into a discomforting silence. Finally, L can stand it no longer and quips,

"Are you going to watch me bathe?"

Kira's complacent grin stretches across his entire face as he remarks candidly,

"I like to _watch_."

There is an uncomfortable chill in the cold air and L finds himself incapable of an immediate disarming reply. The detective realizes he has made a grievous mistake when his gaze meets Raito's and he swallows reflexively. Raito's eyes are dark with intent and the older man knows for certain the implication of those words hangs heavily between them. He is the first to break eye contact, as he turns away and decides that the best tactic is not to respond at all, for he is certain that anything he says will be twisted wildly out of context. He slowly slips his shirt off until it hangs off of one arm, suspended by the cuff. His kidnapper waits until L refocuses his steady regard with his to smirk and move forward, taking hold of him by the wrist in a steady grasp while unlocking the stainless steel manacle, before letting the garment fall to the floor and refastening it.

The detective warily observes his warden, his stance guarded as he looks over to the tub, full of water and bubbles. It's ridiculous to postulate any reason why he is being forced to bathe in such a frivolous manner, as a no frills but perfunctory shower would do just as well. L focuses on the frothiness floating across the warm water, small vapors of steam escaping from melting white foam as he unfastens his jeans and pushes them down with his underwear, fleetly stepping into the tub before swiftly submerging to regain his modesty. For a few brief, precious moments he is able to sit still and relax, the wet warmth sinking welcomely through his tired limbs. His hand reaches for the bar of soap and he shuts his eyes as his hands function mechanically to lather his skin and gently scrub.

His precise movements, although slowed ever so slightly by the substance in his veins, is still a graceful dance of those delicately thin digits, the look on L's face one of private bliss. It's been over a week since his gift of warmth, and now Raito grants him the rare privilege to sit in recuperative silence, body caressed by perfumed tepid liquid. The scent of burnt vanilla teases his senses brutally, but the illusion is too strong and desired to break just yet. He lets out an uneasy sigh, his slight consolation mitigated by the determined fixed gaze of his captor as he leans his head back and rests. L can literally feel those golden eyes burning in his direction, but ignores the sensation of a predator hungrily eying him as prey for the few gratifying minutes of physical solace. He cracks his eyes open ever so slightly, and abruptly jumps when he realizes Raito's sudden proximity, causing him to slip sideways.

Raito's hand immediately steadies his shoulder and L guardedly freezes in place. A few strained moments pass and he is all too aware of how his breath has quickened and he finally concedes and looks up at his captor, taking a few deep inhalations to calm his rapid pulse. Raito smiles, seemingly amused and quips,

"Relax, I'm not going to drown you. I'm just tired of seeing your hair in a constant state of disarray."

Raito moves behind the tub, and kneels down out of view. There is a frantic, almost panicked moment before the detective feels water soaking through to his head in a slow, gentle trickle. When those elegant fingers begin to work their way through his hair, and he smells scented shampoo he begins to realize that this sudden closeness is uncalled for. L makes a sudden effort to get up and complains,

"Raito-kun, there is no need for...ow! What the hell?!"

L exclaims again in pained protest as his head is jerked back forcefully, and he glares resentfully backwards at the younger man who holds onto his hair with deadly strength. However,Raito doesn't seem angry, and merely chastises him,

"Be a good boy and sit still. It would be wrong to insult my goodwill."

L huffs in response, but grudgingly leans back and permits the apparently deranged killer to shampoo his hair. It's tense and awkward, he's stunned and ambivalent as to how to prevent Raito's perverse desire to manhandle him. After a few moments, the gentleness of the act returns, and it starts to feel disturbingly pleasant. He feels those deadly fingers softly inspecting his healing wound, and feels oddly out of place when a distinct yet soft, melting voice filters into his senses,

"It's almost completely healed. I'm sorry I had to hurt you, but I didn't have much choice at the time."

The older man heaves in an unsteady breath and quietly remarks,

"Why are you keeping me here? Why is my corpse not rotting away on the floor of Task Force Headquarters?" He is cognizant of the cursory pause behind him, and that soothing voice delights his ears even as it deflects his inquiry with haughty disdain,

"My, aren't we feeling especially morbid tonight? I thought you would be thankful for once. So few people appreciate the simple gift of being alive, choosing instead to burden those around them with pain and inconvenience. You've never been what one could consider refined company, but your intelligence has merit. You are alive because I find you entertaining, at least for the moment. When you cease to be a source of amusement, you can be assured of whatever grim circumstance you feel befitting of your situation."

Those hands continue to caress his scalp, as L wraps his arms around his chest in an attempt to calm the bewildering sensations fluttering through his stomach. When an unexpected shudder runs through him, he flinches as hands rest on his shoulders and he feels warm breath ghost across the back of his neck, and a soft whisper,

"Go ahead and rinse off, there is a towel on the sink for when you are done."

L simply nods reflexively, fretting his recent inability to verbally respond when he feels physically overcome with paranoid idealizations. He begins to instantly regret his stupified state of mind as he watches the younger man stop just long enough to scoop his clothes up from the floor and spirit them away, the door closing behind him. Unspoken curses rattle through his mind and he leans back, rinsing the suds from his hair before letting the water out of the tub. There is still an incongruous amount of bubbles which remain, and he turns the shower on long enough to lave the frothy mess away. Once he is sufficiently certain he has vanquished the sudsy deluge he steps out of the tub and speedily grabs the towel, drying himself efficiently with a vigorous hastiness. He barely fastens the terry cloth material around his waist when the door opens without warning, and Raito walks inside, a pleased expression gracing his handsome features,

"That didn't take you long at all."

L shrugs, fidgeting with his chain and replies,

"You asked me to finish, I didn't believe it would please you if I took my time." His captor hands him a change of clothes, and there is an uninhibited smugness playing at his lips. L readily takes the neatly folded garments and holds them, conspicuously uncomfortable as Raito merely stands back, an expectant look on his face. L gives him a slightly helpless. nonverbal plea for privacy, but Raito acts serenely innocent, blatantly unaware of his plight while acting teasingly, maddeningly oblivious to his dilemma. Seconds tick by, and L is ripped from his disquieting ripple of shame by the clearing of the other's throat and Raito sardonically adds,

"Go ahead, take your time. I've got the rest of the night to humor you."

The detectives eyes narrow as he turns, throwing the towel on the sink and turning away to promptly dress and stops only to hold the chain up demandingly, a white shirt held tightly in his other hand. Raito smiles, and begins to encroach into his personal space and L backs away instinctively in response, the shirt falling instantly to the floor. His warden pulls the chain taut, and L turns and unconsciously places an arm between them in an attempt to create any barrier that will give him distance from the overpowering scrutiny crawling along his still naked chest. He staggers slightly at his instant meekness caused by Raito's sudden orientation to his bared flesh, unable to properly factor what his enemy wants as the disquiet in his mind begins to spiral out of control.

Raito regards his captive for a moment, of how the drug dulls the coordinated speed of his responses but not the mental agitation apparent in his demeanor. There is a recognizable strain in L's countenance, the way his chest rapidly rises and falls beneath creamy smooth flesh. L is almost painfully thin, but sinewy musculature traces impressively along his physique, delicately defining his masculinity with pristine ambiguity. A sure impulse to taste and cruelly pierce the quivering damp skin that traces the concave of his hostage's belly causes an unmistakable craving, and the intense reaction of his own body from mere proprioception, the heat emanating tantalizingly from his prisoner's flesh. His raven black hair is still somewhat damp and some of the obedient strands partly cling along the edges of his face, framing those luminous widened eyes which close tightly in response, a subdued trembling betrayed by those gentle, drying wisps of the contentious ebony locks that refuse to lie flat.

It's too intimate and invasive to be sufficiently acceptable to the introspective young man, who swiftly decides that something must be done to diffuse the situation before it gets out of hand. L starts to shove back against the hand holding him dangerously close as he opens his eyes to shoot Raito a baleful glare when he feels the manacle fall from his wrist and his attention focuses upon the shirt being placed in his once captive hand instead. He promptly takes the sudden release to straightaway regain his propriety and once his shirt is safely on, he goes about dressing as quickly as possible, before he takes account of his sudden unsteadiness, placing a shaking hand against the sink to find his sense of balance.

It's all the time Raito needs to take hold of him, locking a set of handcuffs back around his wrists before helping him to regain his equilibrium. L puts little resistance into being guided back to his pallet on the floor, allowing the other to guide him, watching Raito remove the handcuffs once he is safely restrained. He bends his head forward, and allows the younger boy to gently comb his hair, finding comfort in the apparent return to their now established routine.

A small glimmer of light catches L's eye, and he casually averts barely opened eyes to see that it's the metallic edge of a knife handle tucked neatly into the waistband of Raito's slacks. He had never noticed a weapon there before, but the kneeling position of his captor causes his shirt to ride up ever so slightly, revealing that Kira is indeed armed with deadly means should L decide to suddenly attack him. He sighs softly, letting out a light yawn and Raito does not notice anything out of place in his tired expression as he stands and prepares to leave.

In the detective's mind, the beginnings of a viable scheme to overthrow his captor start to whir with magnificent precision. He hears the familiar click of the door lock and looks up with a playful smile skirting his lips as he gnaws his thumb out of habitual procedure to accompany his thoughts. All he needs now, is to wait for the proper moment to act.


	5. Chapter 5

**Warnings! **First and foremost, I must declare the absolute importance that NO ONE should ever practice or even play around with asphyxiation and breath control. It is a strict line that should never be crossed in reality as the results can easily be fatal and end tragically. In no way would I ever condone using it in a scene consensually or otherwise and I simply can't stress that enough.

This chapter gets a N/C (non-con) warning, and it will SQUICK some people. It definitely has strong elements of BDSM as well as N/C, if you happen to be someone who is easily disturbed by any of these things, (or maybe you need to look up what all that means first) I would recommend that you simply skip to _**Chapter Six: **____**A fronte praecipitium a tergo lupi**__...once it's posted of course. I will put a skip ahead warning on any chapters I feel might be questionable, so please don't say I didn't warn ya!_

_Also, mad props to my beta Lio, who puts up with my bouts of creative insanity and deranged phone calls...and equally long fits of writer's block! (I'm posting this without her last review, but I will simply post it until she has any corrections. Y'all have waited long enough!)_

This is simply a work of fiction, and the freedom of the imagination to create what should remain pure fantasy . 

_**Asphyxia ~ a lack of oxygen or excess of carbon dioxide in the body that results in unconsciousness and often death and is usually caused by interruption of breathing or inadequate oxygen supply.**_

_**Merriam-Websters Online Dictionary **_

Although Raito has a small window of opportunity each day to attend to his captive, he does so at the expense of what little personal time he has to spare. The elimination of Rem and the shortening of Misa's lifespan had been a carefully planned advantage, but Misa's constant complaints for his company make escape entirely necessary. He often lies and tells her he has to get out for a little while, if only to give thought to the new world they will build together. She reverently allows him his personal space, and his small trips to see L aid his deceptions another day. Ever since that first moment of fear he had seen in the detective's eyes at realizing the veracity of his accusations to no avail, trapped in a situation where escape was highly unlikely, Raito became entranced with the possibilities of such absolute dominion over another human being.

The one thing that absolutely amazed him was that in spite of the harsh reality of his situation, L's mind still tested his, it refused to allow him a moment of peace from the same intense analytical observation he had been the receiver of as a suspect. Every movement he made, Raito realized with growing amusement, was noted and cataloged behind those wide, dark eyes. Several weeks have passed since that fateful night back in November and those last minute preparations he had made to insure keeping L alive, if only for the purposes of personal amusement. He smiles easier now, knowing that he no longer has to deceive L. There is nothing except honesty between them now, and the heavy truth of Kira's victory over the once anonymous enigma of justice.

Only the Death Note and the power it gives him compares to such a triumph, but he is no fool. Raito knows the time will come when L will attempt to incapacitate and possibly kill him. He had caught the fleeting sideways glance of hooded eyes, the faint hint of a smile that had played upon those pale lips when he had seen that his warden was armed. Didn't L realize what he was up against? Kira had won this battle of wits already, the detective was as good as dead. Yet, part of Raito was secretly exhilarated to know that his enemy was still very much alive for the time being, that relentless mind seeking to thwart any moment of weakness it might discern with his perfectly woven tapestry of logic and skillfully planned outcomes. It was the same dance as before, except that now he was the one in charge.

So, if L still believed that he could possibly gain the upper hand, Raito sincerely wished for him to try, and felt more than at ease with such a challenge. Never before, had he ever met anyone with such abilities of pure rational process, and the likelihood of meeting another individual anytime soon to contest his own mental capabilities were slim to none. Why not enjoy the endgame a little longer? There was no real rush to send L to his grave just yet, the chained man no longer presented a viable threat to his plans to use the Death Note to it's full potential. Soon, the world would bow to the whims of Kira and his enforcement of the greater good.

Once Raito enters the room to check on his prisoner, he easily sees the condescending glare that L doesn't bother to hide as he sets a packaged meal and the expected two bottles of water on the floor. It's as the younger man goes to grab his captive's one free hand to handcuff him does the other begin to struggle, irritable and angry as he hisses,

"Just leave me alone. This slow method of boring me to death is tedious and completely unprofessional. You don't have to lie to me anymore, Kira. I'm more than aware of what you are and what you are capable of. I also know enough to expect very little from a lowly murderer such as yourself, but this is reaching the boundaries of ridiculous."

Raito tolerates the sudden outburst, and takes a deep breath before responding. This reaction has been anticipated for some time, and he's somewhat astonished that it's taken L this long to snap, but he's in no mood to humor him any further,

"That's not a very nice thing to say to the one who takes care of you. It would benefit you greatly to act appropriately towards me, or I'm liable to remember my ways as a lowly murderer, as you so eloquently put it."

Raito tries to fasten the handcuffs once again, but L struggles violently, kicking back in response to the attempts to bind him. The detective manages to land a decent blow to his aggressor's midriff, knocking him back long enough to regain his defensive posture. Raito takes a moment of retreat, standing safely outside of the range of L's still impressive ability to fight and kick, in spite of the chemically tainted water he's recently consumed. _Perhaps_, Raito begins to think, _it would be wise to err on the side of caution and increase the dose once more._ He laughs after catching his breath and then reverts back to his charming, calm facade, sparing L a deadly grin,

"If that's the way you want to have it, fine. I don't come here for my benefit."

Raito then turns to leave, when he feels the impact of the Styrofoam container smack against the back of his head, it's contents splattering across his immaculate dress. An explosive rage boils within him, as he spins instantly to see the gratified sneer on L's face, adding fuel to the wrath he literally shakes to control. L is still coiled tight in his aggressive position, like a snake waiting for the right moment to strike.

It becomes very clear to him then, that L is taunting him, anticipating his reaction. Raito can see the expectant joy instantly hidden a bare second later to indignant disgust and hatred, yet he's dancing inside to see untainted malice painted across that pale face. Raito's unspoken request is granted no less than a few moments later, as L smiles contemptuously and snarls,

"Kira looks so much better when someone knocks him down a few notches."

It's definitive now, the slight anticipation in L's eyes betray his intentions. Although Raito is infuriated, he knows that reacting when L expects it will only lead to a fight where he stands a good chance of being injured by those deadly feet. He looks over at L, sparing him a disproving glance and saying,

"Too bad, that's all the food you're getting today. Keep that up and you're liable to starve to death."

Raito barely captures the look of astonishment on L's face as he turns away and walks out the door, closing and locking it behind him. So it's true, L wants to provoke him into a fight. Raito laughs smugly to himself and thinks, _No worries, L. I will deal with you soon enough_.

L watches the light beneath the door come and go, and notes the passage of time as a day and a half before Raito's face once again graces that damning doorway. His stomach growls loudly and he is filled with instant disappointment once he perceives that his warden carries only bottles of water. He glances up expectantly at Raito and the look of frustration on his face is hardly concealed,

"You didn't bring me anything to eat."

Raito smiles at him genuinely and replies in a tone free of aggravation or malice,

"Of course not. Maybe you'll be more appreciative of the efforts I go through in order to provide for you on a regular basis."

The younger boy's hands work efficiently to handcuff him and unlock him from his less than favored position by the wall, leading him to the bathroom in his regular routine. L is allowed to shower with minimal intrusion into his privacy, and he's absolutely puzzled by this sudden change in Raito's demeanor.

Once he is finished, L is allowed to dress in comfortable attire, and he casually notes a dizzy feeling, and easily gathers that his blood sugar must have taken a sudden dive since the day of his last meal. Although Raito did not react to his goading to fight, the enforced starvation is an effective punishment. He reluctantly goes back to his makeshift bed on the floor, and easily drifts off to sleep once Raito departs.

It's almost another full day before L reluctantly drinks the bottles of water left for him. His stomach growls and aches and he hopes that the water will help to fight off the feeling of hunger. He feels frustration and anger at not being able to effectively evoke a physical reaction from his captor. This in and of itself is unusual, Raito has always been comparatively easy to anger, and easier still to incense into fighting. It is only through close contact that the opportunity to disarm and injure Raito can occur, and L spends most of his time deliberating over ideas to entice such a situation to present itself.

Several minutes pass, and as the contents of the last bottle are drained L feels the effects of vertigo. His eyes instantly find the empty bottles and he silently curses at them in his lightheadedness. Why has Raito suddenly changed the dosage of the water? He is compliant enough with his enforced routine, outside of the recent outburst.

Almost as if on cue, the door opens and the light is switched on. L glares blatantly at him, and throws an empty water bottle at the brunet. It bounces off harmlessly and lands nearby, and it's too comical to dismiss altogether so Raito smiles widely, his eyes almost half closed in pure amusement. In his hands are two bottles of water, and another container of food. He sets them down just out of reach and pulls the handcuffs from his pocket, removing the chain from his wrist and noting how unbalanced his charge is, helps L to his feet and steadies him. Everything is as it had been before, and L is uncertain what to make of his newest level of medication. Is this also a response to his recent petulant attempt, or is it simply a preliminary foreshadowing to something much darker? L takes more time than usual trying to dress himself, and it's not until he is being roughly pulled out by his shirt when he sees the handcuffs does he even realize that he's been free of them all this time.

However, as he tries to ineffectively shove Raito away from him, L finds himself restrained but this time his hands are secured to the piping just outside of the bathroom. Realizing this does not bode well for him, he turns his face towards the other only to see the palm of Raito's hand just before it strikes him across the face. L instantly loses his balance and falls to his knees, irritable and itchy for vengeance. Raito can hardly imagine what happens next, L uses his position to spin to his hands, one of his feet lunging with brutal force through the air and finding their mark. The younger man barely realizes what has taken place, it is when he sees the smug look of satisfaction on L's face in his visual periphery that he knows.

Within a matter of seconds Raito is on his feet, eyes gleaming with rage and sporting a crimson hue. L may be imbalanced, but the piping affords him a full one hundred and eighty degree range of movement. Each time Kira tries to get close, L appears to gain enough equilibrium to deter his approach like a master of Drunken Kung Fu, almost graceful in his wavering attempts to maintain his poise. Several tense minutes pass, and Raito notices that his prisoner is breathing heavily, and perceives that the activity is wearing him down. He continues to press the detective with more determination, playing a dangerous game of avoiding those treacherous kicks with the breadth of a safe distance.

Kira is almost gleeful when he is able to get a kick in himself, knocking L down mid-flight. L fights despairingly as his head is suddenly jerked painfully backwards by the iron grip on his hair. He winces and growls out furiously, using what little purchase his legs can gather and lands another hard kick to Raito's side. This action infuriates L's aggressor into a sudden violent frenzy, as he tries to propel another attack towards Raito, when his leg is seized and forced under the weight of the other. He is unable to protect his head as a rain of blows fall, and when it stops, he spits blood into the face of his assailant. Raito hits him again, and yanks his hair harshly, as he wipes his face and hisses,

"I'll make you sorry you ever did that!"

L's struggles to wriggle free when Raito suddenly whips the tie loose from his neck, circling it quickly around his hands in a fluid tandem motion before wrapping it tight around the dark haired man's pale throat. L immediately freezes, an overwhelming panic settling across his skin with a mortified chill. He looks back into Raito's eyes, and as he meets the crimson gaze with a horrified clarity, his captor taking a few moments to drink in his fear, suddenly causing a sudden trembling from within him. L weakly pleas, and is ashamed with how defeated he sounds,

"No, Raito-san...please stop..."

His quivering words trail off as a predatory grin spreads across Raito's face, who then holds the ends of the tie in one hand and pulls a little harder before he darkly taunts,

"You're mine, to do with however I please. Go on Lawliet, beg for mercy. Beg Kira to let you live just a little _longer."_

L has never fathomed that anything could ever terrify him beyond the ability to think clearly. He can barely breathe, as his heart rapidly pounds within his chest so patently Raito can literally taste the anxiety blazing through the detective's psyche. A subtle sweat starts to settle through Kira's demeanor and within those moments, a painfully intimate need and luxuria for possession.

L's vulnerability is intoxicating, Raito feels a heinous thrill in wanting to dominate the man beneath him in every aspect, ripping him apart piece by piece. Kira can't wait to savor it, wanting to watch L's superior self control quickly unravel, until he is little more than a sobbing, begging mass of shaking flesh that he can rend asunder. Raito envisions squeezing those shreds until every bit of humanity drips from the arrogant man's very bones, and it fills him with a robust and obscene desire. He laughs as he considers this,taking everything from L little by little, until the detective would have no choice but to bow before him.

He holds the cloth garrote steady and tight and drags his other hand down L's side, pausing teasingly at the waistband of his pants, and back underneath the white shirt across quivering flesh. Much to L's horror, it is all too apparent when those hands change from murderous to sexually domineering and possessive, causing an irrepressible fear and stupor to stun him into an almost catatonic state.

Nothing in L's life had ever prepared him for what was about to occur, the sanctity of his sheltered life could never have predicted that he would become the victim of such a heinous crime. His paranoia had once kept his enemies at bay, yet here he is now, fighting against all hope only to realize the painful truth of his dilemma. His mind struggles to reconcile with the overwhelming terror and grief which pulsates like lead in his veins, unable to effectively oppose and escape the harrowing violation that is about to befall him.

The bound man instantly finds that he can breathe in short, shallow pants as the sharp fingertips on his skin prevail licentiously in deep almost unbearable scratches, marking him mercilessly as they make their way across his stomach. Their wayward violation suddenly stop upon reaching the button of his jeans, and then continue on by unfastening the waistband. It is when that depraved hand traverses down his zipper and roughly pulls the denim from his hips that he frantically begins to fight back. Raito pulls abruptly on the tie, taking L's air until all the struggling movement beneath him ceases. There is a decreased amount of force against his throat as choked whimpering escape in greedy gasps for air, before L tightly closes his eyes and weakly implores, unable to stop himself from the pleading, desperate tone of his words, the utter humiliation that burns in his throat,

"Raito-san, please...don't do this. N-not like this...p-please, not like this...anything but this..!"

Kira's laughter is proud and triumphant as he boldly smirks, his tone sensual and sardonic with deadly charm,

"Yes, just like that, you are most endearing when you give in to me. Tell me _L_, did you see this in that persistent mind of yours? Did you think you would live another day when you woke up this morning?" Raito lowers his voice to a whisper and L is terrified when he hears it close to his ear, "Get used to being wrong, _oh great detective_."

That bold hand moves lower as the noose around the porcelain pale neck tightens. L flounders relentlessly until his movements start to slacken and he feels unbearably lightheaded. The tie loosens momentarily and he heaves in oxygen, his body shaken and unsteady. The terror that courses through his veins can not explain the evident arousal Raito's hand now claims, his mind failing to process anything except the diminished amount of air that rushes into his lungs. His jeans slip completely from his thighs with a barely repressed shudder, his brain calculates responsively, as it supplies him with dwindling percentages for his survival, until he is certain of his impending death.

If Raito is intoxicated with the power of hurting him, it is now in his best interests to comply until it is all over. Pride decisively disintegrates in the interest of preserving his life, but there is no hard proof that Raito will be generous enough to allow such an exchange. L breathes in heated, shallow pants before he winces as fingers roughly violate him, stretching him uncomfortably, an intolerable intrusion that causes him to huskily cry out and cringe in spite of his extreme efforts to remain calm. The logic of his mind to quiet the pure revulsion he harbors within himself fails miserably to quell the queasy disturbed paranoia that settles like a rock in his gut.

Those fingers continue to press hard inside of him before curling slightly, pushing down towards the base of his arousal, as a perceptible tingle of pleasure passes through his lower stomach. L balks immediately in response, the taste of vomit wet on his tongue, only to have his air abruptly cease as an unbearable sensation rips through his body. Kira mounts him in haste, pushing deeply inside of him as his entire body convulses in agony. The length of the cloth relaxes and a hoarse cry breaks from L's swollen lips, his self control completely undone as genuine fear sends shock through his entire system,

"N-no...no...s-stop...please stop...please...no...don't..!"

His words are taken once again as he barely gasps, Raito forcing himself vigorously against his unwilling flesh. L begins to feel his knees buckle as weakness starts to overcome him, the savage silk restricting his ability to breathe for what seems like an eternity. Just when L grieves the thought he might die, his lungs reclaim precious air as his ragged voice groans the extent of his excruciation. His body still continues to defy the intense hatred and dread, throbbing wantonly as Kira's thrusts hasten an involuntary pleasure to steadily build. The impromptu noose tightens repeatedly, each time it lessens his power to curb the physical reaction of his flesh to resist the brilliant sensation that causes his toes to curl severely and his muscles to tighten instinctively. L can barely hear Kira's moans of glorious unsated lust as that treacherous hand once again closes around his aching hardness, and fists him shamelessly, as the tie constrains his throat brutally with enough force to kill. Unable to breath, tears begin to course down his face as his mind reels in shock.

He immediately panics, inebriated with sexual craving and terror, utterly helpless and unable to deter his fate at Kira's hands any longer. Immediately, his vision goes white as his body clenches, bliss flooding his conscious awareness in a violent quivering. Climax coils and springs through him as he spills seed in rapid bursts and a feral, desperate cry breaks from his abused throat. L is barely aware of Raito's own lusty vocalizations and shuddering form behind him. Tears of undetermined misery or even elated joy stream from his tightly shut eyes, weak sobs of gratitude slip from his quivering lips as the tie unwraps from his throat and he collapses onto the floor beneath him. L vaguely registers anything as Raito withdraws from his body, and he trembles uncontrollably, gasping in huge swallows of air before his mind relents effortlessly to deliquium.

Raito pants heavily as he scrambles away from L's suddenly still form, the realization of what has just happened hits him full force. He stumbles back as if in confusion over what he has done, observing the man unconscious on the floor before him with considerable disdain. L's prone, defenseless body lies sprawled in a grotesque position, his hands still chained to the metal pipes leading into bathroom. The cuffs of his captive's tattered white shirt are stained with red, bloody from where the helpless man had struggled so intensely that the metal bit into the delicate flesh his wrists. The rest of his shirt is pulled up to his chest, exposing the bloody scratched pale skin blossoming with dark purple and green contusions. The worn jeans and ripped underwear hang haphazardly off one ankle, vulnerable pale thighs streaked with small rivulets of blood.

However, the one sight that Raito labors to reconcile is the hideous black and blue injury that rings L's throat. He appears almost afraid as he bends down and delicately touches his fingertips to the swollen, colored flesh. A weak pulse confirms that the older boy indeed lives, and Raito lets out an involuntary sigh of relief, before a tiny inkling of regret trickles through his senses. He disgustedly shakes the remnants of shame from his mind with a determined snarl. There was no need to feel guilty over what had transpired. L was a proclaimed threat, the ultimate enemy to his vision of the world he would soon create in it's marveled entirety. L's life belonged to him the moment he had been imprisoned here. What should it matter what happened to him before Kira murdered him?

_You're no better than the criminals you punish..._

Remorse rebels inside of the young man's thoughts, he brings a hand to his head and mentally berates himself. He had almost killed the detective, after everything he had gone through to preserve the life of the other. After all the efforts he had made to hide the survival of his opponent and protect such a fact from Misa, of how he had angrily screamed at her the instant she had questioned what had happened to his enemy. He had lied to cover up his secret, although it was none of her concern. The moment he had said it, he had realized with swift certainty that he had reacted too emotionally to such a simple inquiry, although it had confused him at the time as to why. Raito refuses to accept that he feels anything towards L other than hatred.

How had he lost control of himself so easily? L had tried to fight him, to deny his authority as the victor in this sordid scenario. Hadn't it been his plan from the beginning, to show the detective once and for all as to who was really in charge? How had he lost control so easily?

Raito dresses himself hastily before regaining his composure and stepping into the bathroom to wash his face and rinse out a simple washcloth with warm water. He returns to gently wipe away the evidence of his crime from the unconscious man's body, taking stock of every injury before softly cleaning his wounds. L doesn't move outside of the faint rise and fall of his shallow breathing, his face an angelic calm and deceptive mask after the violence of Kira's eros and craving for domination.

He removes the handcuffs and carries L to his pallet on the floor, setting him down slowly and reattaching the chain to the injured man's wrist before leaving the room. He returns within ten minutes, a first aid kit in one hand and a pair of shackles in the other. He secures the shackles around L's ankles, then begins to tend to his wrists. Graceful fingers apply antibiotic ointment and roll gauze around the inflamed flesh, taping it in place.

Raito brushes the ebony locks from L's closed, bruised eyes with a tender sweep of fingers, and pulls one of the blankets up to his chest and rests his captive's head softly on the pillow he had previously provided. L whimpers in his sleep, and Raito gently hushes him, bending over to place a silent press of lips to his temple. He grins cruelly as he stands, giving L a final glance as he exits from the scene of his most recent crime.


	6. Chapter 6

Wow, I'm simply amazed by some of the reviews I've received! Yes, I warned you, this wasn't going to turn out very well for L, at least not in the ways you might have expected. I'm somewhat afraid I might lose even more of you who seem a little too optimistic about dark-fic...as for the rest of you, hang on, it's gonna be a bumpy ride!

As always, props to my beta Lio, and to my reviewers! I appreciate the love, I really do!

Chapter Six: _**A Fronte Praecipitium a Tergo Lupi**_

L simply stares at the wall before him, lying completely flat on the worn green blanket that had been his false, safe haven, his head resting against the lumpy pillow Raito had left for him. His mind is racing, in part to the pain he feels and the tiny clips of wretched memories that play over and over again the moment he closes his eyes. He aches all over, but his throat burns and he frequently coughs. L shudders uncontrollably, but it has little to do with the temperature of the room itself, although that is in and of itself is unbearably cold.

His shirt is torn, and bloody around the cuffs but his usual attire of jeans is missing. His wrists are carefully bandaged and taped, and one remains shackled to the now familiar location in that awful concrete room. Shackles adorn his ankles, the metal biting into his flesh and making them sore, yet the reason behind why they are present is readily clear. Only one bit of memory can make him any less penitent of his impulsive actions for some form of petty revenge, the fleeting glance of stupefaction on Raito's lovely face at being kicked full force in the solar plexus. L quirks a faint smile in spite of his predicament and considers that perhaps the next time he might be able to aim a little higher, and knock a few teeth from that perfectly white smile of artificial sincerity.

Is it the severe cold that seeped into his body, making him sick? L has shivered from the moment that he had regained consciousness. His body ails in a horrifying way, the pain that pulses near the base of his spine warns him not to attempt to become upright without the promise of more pronounced agony. Part of him wishes to deny the overwhelming evidence of sexual assault, and the other half of him comprehends the psychological reaction to trauma. _Denial and dissociation were common results when this type of crime happened to another human being, _L logically justifies to himself. There is a moment when the detective finds himself slightly surprised to consider that he doesn't think of himself in the same way as other people. He has separated himself from others emotionally for so long that he instantly seeks to distance himself mentally even now, as if such an act can help him find the safety and security he once knew. L finds himself less than satisfied in knowing that he feels anything remotely human, instead favoring the option of denial a little longer.

Had it really happened? He feels entirely disconnected from everything, as if his thoughts are a mere fading echo inside of his own mind. L vaguely recalls the traumatic events in larger chunks now, of what all had taken place before he lost consciousness, as if witnessing the crime vicariously through a long dark tunnel. His fingers timidly press to his swollen throat, and the barest pressure results in immediate pain and another coughing spasm. He sees the ever present bottles of water nearby, and upon rising to his knees he is immediately cognizant of his physical weakness and that he shakes with erratic fervor.

Was Raito's intention to kill him unsuccessful? L leans back upon grasping the water, unable to consume more than a few swallows at a time. The ailing distress of his muscles radiates with a steady thrum that keeps him as still as his trembling will allow. L knows he is not a readily emotional creature, but there is an alarming sense of loss that causes his stomach to churn and twist far more than the worst hunger he has felt. The answer is all too clear, but it's not at all what he likes to admit even to himself. Raito could have easily killed him if he had wanted to. He stares down at his bandaged wrists and the brown stains on his shirt and fights to settle the hammering beat of his heart, the tightening in his chest and the rapid pace of his breathing.

For the first time since he could remember, back when the death knell tolled the passing of his parents so long ago, he fights against the urge to feel sorrow. Whammy had always sensed his dread upon hearing the metallic sound of bells even that initial instance when he was merely eight years old, and had squeezed his gloved hand with an unspoken reassurance.

There had never been the need for lengthy explanations or overt displays of affection, Watari seemed to understand when something had bothered the brilliant boy, showing his support in every way so that the world would never know how impaired his social abilities were. The inventor had also known that in spite of his eccentricities, there was so much more to the young boy who had felt motivated enough to intervene and stop a senseless war at such a tender age. Watari had protected him from ever dealing with the familiar dangers that lurked in society, allowing him to instead hone his skills to root out the dangerous deviance of the human wolves that manipulated trust and intelligence to feed off of the unsuspecting prey of other human beings.

A lone tear escapes his efforts to be emotionally strong, thwarting his thin veil of supposed control over what he is feels with overpowering intensity.

There was no one to protect him anymore, no comforting silence from his paternal guardian. What good had all his neurotic planning and heady precautions been when he had been unable to defend the one human that truly mattered to him? L reflexively swallows whatever tears try to break through his fortress of invulnerability and does his best to steel his mind against the conflict of agony raging in his body and his mind.

He had been completely unprepared for the attack against him, having no choice but to submit under such murderous force in order to save his own life. It was doubtful that such pleading cries worked on Kira, he seemed to feed on L's humility and suffering and had more than simply enjoyed the physical duress the older man had endured. More than likely, he had been kept alive so that he could continue to bear more anguish before being killed slowly, maximizing every moment of his suffering in his numbered days, to die in any manner Raito would care to imagine. This time, the bitter unshed tears are harder to force down, and L shivers considerably more trying to come to terms with such a macabre ending to his short life.

A faint echo of the moment before he had lost awareness plays through his mind, and there is an inkling of shame associated with the memory. L can infer to himself that his unexpected climax had been an involuntary response, but it does nothing to lessen the burden of humiliation burning across his face with a sudden heat . He hides his face, despite the fact that no one is there to see his odium, and silently scolds himself. Although it makes very little sense at all, it bothers him greatly that the first time he is able to experience such a thing with another human being, it's against his will by murderous force.

Although rape and torture were not death, both presented undesirable psychological outcomes. L reasons bitterly that it must be Raito's intention to break him, pushing him beyond all reasonable limits until he would finally reach the point of no return, utterly destroyed and at the mercy of his captor's whims. He hisses in an intake of breath, both at his pain and the disgust he feels toward Kira. What had created such a monster from the protective loving home where the cultured genius had a bright future waiting for him on a silver platter? How had such a pure mind twisted to such extremes to justify his desire to change the world.? Deep inside, part of L can't help but to mourn the possibility that if Raito had never found the Death Note, whether they would have eventually met under better circumstances, on the same side. There was no chance for that now, it was little more than a fading childlike fantasy in the face of the awful truth.

From the beginning, this had been about expected outcomes and percentages, and L begins to believe that his usual powers of deduction have deceived him. He had been so certain , that Kira needed a name and a face in order to kill, otherwise he would have never exposed himself to the Task Force. It was his first meeting with Raito that day at To-Oh that had convinced him that showing his face to his one possible Kira suspect was the only way to outmaneuver the chance that he could manipulate his ties to the police to gain information. Most other criminals would have backed down, acted out of the fear of discovery and made mistakes. This was what set Raito apart from the likes of other psychopaths whose penchant for killing had reached a divine level of justification. The young college student seemed to anticipate his moves several steps in advance, and it had only been a matter of time before they were forced into the same proximity. L had originally thought that living no less than six feet away from the teenager would afford him the upper hand.

Looking back upon his acquaintanceship with Kira, L finds that he had no other choice than to have acted in the ways that he had, the laws of Gestalt had compelled the two of them to clash together. It had been a bold move, but it had served it's purpose, if Kira had killed him directly after that meeting it would have alerted the others that Raito was indeed the sociopathic killer they were in search of. Raito had simply been better prepared.

The emergence of the Second Kira had been his eventual undoing, yet even the auburn haired teenager had suggested the link and the outcomes of the two Kiras joining forces. L leans his head back again and hits his head against the wall several times, each ending in a dull thud that distracts the pains elsewhere in his body. He remembers how Raito had openly theorized under the pretense of , "If I was Kira" and allowed his own imprisonment by suggesting it, rationalizing openly for the rest of the Task Force with the explanation of "I might be Kira, because L thinks so". The arrogant bastard didn't have to lie about being Kira or even thinking like the mass murderer with the impeccable saccharine sweet wholesomely earnest straightforwardness he had so meticulously woven to glide effortlessly through society. It was quite plausible to imagine the young man had learned to hide his bloodthirsty tendencies under such an effortless guise. Perhaps the cataclysm of his killer instincts had only been a matter of time.

L is unbearably exhausted, but has a hard time sleeping with such nightmarish thoughts until he manages to swallow the last of his water and then drifts into a drugged, uneasy slumber.

Raito returns some time during his captive's deep slumber, waking him long enough to feed him and restart his daily routine. It's scary how his warden acts in such a casual way, almost as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened before. L can barely keep his head up, and leans heavily on him for support, wailing out soft, weak and tearless cries upon being forced to walk to the bathroom. There is no need to chain the ailing man as before, his shirt is removed, his hands are zip tied and L can barely walk, much less run away. Raito draws a warm bath for him, removing his boxers and softly talking to him to soothe L's sudden shaking form as he begins to carefully rub a soft cloth over the swollen black and purple blemished flesh. There is dried blood along the older boy's thighs, but nothing fresh from the injury incurred from the night before. Still, Raito decides, it would be a better idea to let his captive heal from his trauma before instigating another encounter. Although L is exhausted and physically injured, Kira relives the experience of forcefully taking L in his mind, his captive's vulnerability kicking his libido into overdrive.

After leaving the night before, Raito has given considerable thought to what has happened between them. It seemed completely absurd at first that he would enjoy sexually dominating another man, but this was L. His attraction is fueled by power and pride, and there can be no greater love for Raito than the complete mastery of his fallen adversary. The defeated detective has no other choice but to openly accept his defeat once and for all and bow to Raito's superiority. The mental image of L on his knees before him, arms restrained behind his back and putting the talents of that wicked tongue to good use excites Raito beyond the limits of anything he has ever known, there is a genuine lust for sadistic pleasures where L is concerned. He would make sure to completely secure the other boy beforehand, so that L could not struggle, but also not cause grievous injury to himself. Raito would have his fill of sexual gratifications with the other man before disposing of him, a convenient outlet to escape Misa's constant fawning attempts at seduction.

L continues to whimper in muffled sobs and pleads to be left alone, but Raito ignores the childish way that his prisoner reacts under the influence of intoxication and continues his tending of the other's injuries. The bound detective detests how much he relies on his warden, allowing Raito to go as far as to towel him dry and dress him. Raito carries him bridal style back to his cluttered bed and feeds him rice and broth with a spoon. There is an exaggerated amount of caution in his handling, an unexpected patience and gentleness and L feels disturbed by his recollection of Watari's loving dedications.

Although it seems bizarre at first, Raito smiles briefly as he deals with L's rambling paranoid nonsense over being handled, and enjoys the weakness displayed by the detective's obvious lack of comfort. That pale body shakes at any tactile sensation, and L keeps his eyes closed most of the time although Raito can easily tell that he is trying to shut out the visual memory of their encounter. When the dark eyes do open long enough to regain their bearings, there is an easily identifiable fear running persistently through those dark orbs, betraying the usual facade of stoicism before shutting away behind a mask of indifference. It's fascinating to see what L is truly like once his arrogance and pride have been completely stripped away, the resilience of his mind to continue ticking away endlessly in spite of the waning odds. L refuses to give up. _How touching_, Raito muses, to think that L can still imagine that he stands a chance of truly defying him.

Another week passes, and L regains his sense of grounding, becoming less resistant to the demands for his behavior and less affected by the enforced closeness. There are times when Raito pushes him to test how far this newfound surrender allows, and when L finally becomes agitated and fearful he immediately backs off. His captive doesn't go too far in disagreeing with his instructions, if anything he submits to a noticeable level, but refuses to make eye contact.

Raito is generous with this new behavior, but finally reaches the end of his tolerance when L completely refuses to acknowledge his presence with anything except clear avoidance. He is at his limit after days of muteness from his prisoner, and he approaches him with hostile intent, but it's swiftly usurped by amusement when L cowers at his feet, trembling and afraid.

L closes his eyes when Raito turns his face towards him forcibly by the chin, and he doesn't try to struggle from his tormentor's grasp. He can feel the heated, soft breath of the younger man ghost across his skin, and that warm, sensual voice alighting his senses with a renewed horror,

"Open your eyes, L. Don't you want to see your end when it comes?"

The pale man barely cracks open his eyes and startles completely when a gentle hand tangles through his hair, and repeats in a soothing, petting motion. He finally relents enough to watch that deadly hand slowly stroke across his cheek and notices with instant terror that there is ink on those fingers, an awful reminder of what Raito does in his absence. It's peculiar that the impeccable Yagami Raito would allow a stain upon those diligent instruments of death, and L is aware that this has been done for his benefit alone, a sinister memento of what the younger man is capable of. A frown graces that doleful face, as L's gaze falls to the floor and he let's out a deep sigh. His captor shrugs indifferently and allows L to sit back in silence while he brings his chair just outside of L's position and addresses him,

"Your powers of conversation as of late are riveting. It's very unlike you to not have something to say."

L let's out another forlorn sounding sigh, his arms wrapped protective about his knees, but doesn't make an effort to reply, instead turning to face the wall to his left in a gesture of reticence. Raito considers his charge for a moment before letting out a sigh of his own, with an obvious tinge of frustration behind it. He then adds,

"Very well, I'm leaving then. I've added more rice than usual to your rations, I need to spend time with my family since my father's death, so I won't be back for a couple days. Try and be a good boy and maybe I'll come back with a treat for you. Can you do that for me?"

At first, there is only silence. Then, just a moment before Raito is about to give up on a response, L lets out another long, drawn in breath and faintly nods. His gaze remained fixed on the concrete at his feet, as if it's the most fascinating sight in the world, and he only breaks his stare to jump when he feels Raito pat his head with an almost happy sounding farewell,

"Perfect, then it's settled. I will see you in a few days."

The door to his hauntingly silent prison swings closed once more, and almost fifteen minutes pass before L finally lets out an angry yell, punching the wall with an unwise impulsiveness. Immediately clutching his wounded hand protectively to his chest, he falls back against the wall and becomes overwhelmed with the amount of dependence he has on Raito.

In spite of his anxiety when the other boy is around, L depends on him to break the endless monotony that has started to take it's toll on his unquiet mind. It's been weeks, too many to remember what time it may be or what day of the week it is. The atrocious ticking clock continues to plague his thoughts and L isn't even sure if the unspeakable object exists anywhere outside the badgering preamble of his own self berating imagination. If he had not lost so much time due to the multiple times he has been drugged and unconsciousness, his mind would have naturally pieced a proper time line together from what little information is available to him.

It's becoming evident to him now, that he's lost so much more than time in these past few weeks. Months? L just doesn't know anymore. His thoughts suddenly drift to how badly he wants hot tea, and pristine cubes of sugar and sweet jubilant cake with fat, ripened strawberries sitting atop fluffy white icing, how clearly he sees the kindly face of his late mentor offering it to him upon fine bone china, a twinkle of sadness in his aged eyes.

It's more than L wants to remember at this moment. He then buries his head into his knees and for the first time in as long as he can remember, L Lawliet cries tears of true grief.


	7. Chapter 7

**Honestly, I should be finishing my homework for my Deviant Criminal Behavior class, but all this thinking about serial killers suddenly makes me want to write more than ever! I've been on a long hiatus, and I apologize for being gone so long, but I assure you I have one hell of an interesting time, been from Rome to London, met a few people along the way and ta-da! I'm back! **

**As always, I adore the reviews! They inspire me to write even more (not so subtle hint here) and I delight in seeing that there are a few others out there that enjoy this fic. I've continued to get responses and reviews in my absence and I truly appreciate it!Thank you so very much for your time, and if you make me feel guilty enough, I post faster ;) **

**This chapter does not have non-con, however there are extreme acts of violence and if you're sensitive to graphic depictions of it...you might want to skip ahead again...but everything from here on out will fall under dub-con if not non-con. Consider this the point where things get excessively dark.**

**And yes...I speaks only enough Portuguese to understand what the hell the instructor in Capoeira class is carrying on about...in case you were curious! Meia-lua de compasso is a signature move that I've wounded myself many times in my attempts to master it. For those wishing to learn the Brazilian martial art, I should warn that it involves a lot of pain and injury...raising guppies is far safer!**

_****__Ira furor brevis est_: _animum rege_: qui nisi paret imperat. Anger is momentary madness, so control your passion or it will control you. 

Why did he keep the older man prisoner, instead of killing him? Raito had a hard time answering that question for himself. At first, he had imagined that he wanted more time to consider how to torment the detective, but as the weeks began to drag by, that hadn't been it at all. After the incident where he had almost strangled the defenseless man, Raito had been overwhelmed with lust at the extent of power he held over his previous enemy. L had held him captive, questioned him for days on end and chained him to his side, all the while the teenager had been dissected and controlled with fears of imprisonment and execution. There is something intensely satisfying and enjoyable in the need to prove his ultimate dominance over L, to put him through the same level of terror he had felt. Society currently held tight to the theory that Kira was a criminal, but that was slowly changing with every day that went by. The very concept of anyone stopping Kira had started to slowly evolve into the accepted possibilities that he was a necessary evil, a cure to all that had started to go wrong in an uncertain world.

L was the embodiment of his victory in the meantime, and the brunet longs to savor it for as long as possible. Anything Raito wanted from L, is now his to do with as he pleases, be it the detective's fear, body or life. Watching L tremble in terror and helplessness is a decidedly better compensation for all of his trouble than witnessing the detective suffer a short, fatal heart attack. After all, death would signal a halt to their game, and then what fun would that be? There had been a steady evident horror in those wide eyes the moment L had come to realize that death was not the only thing to be feared anymore. Raito closes his eyes and thrills the moment mere memory fills his mind, tingling at the thoughts of trembling flesh, the sight of his mortal enemy submitting beneath him and begging for his life.

He longs to break the detective down slowly, a fraction at a time until there is nothing but Kira's will alone in that stubborn head. L's physical demise could wait until after his spirit had been crushed, and he had no choice but to accept his humiliation and defeat by his greatest adversary. No other prospect in life outside of the Death Note had ever offered Raito the steady alleviation from his boredom more than keeping the detective hostage to his whims.

The only thing Raito must anticipate is when L would decide to try to escape from him. The spry grin he had barely caught a glimpse of had betrayed the fact that the detective was considering some form of action, but he had spent a few weeks deliberating on what to do. He had known that eventually, L would take action against him, and that the process of drugging his food and water would placate him for only so long.

Outside of college classes and the tedium of Misa's insistence, Raito considers it ironic that Aizawa had asked him to assist the new Task Force. While no one had ever found L's body, it had been assumed that the new Kira had dictated the events of his death to a location possibly outside of Japan. A cryptic message left on a computer hinted at being unable to stop the mass murderer once again plaguing the world, and a suicidal notion to end his case file, something no one who had ever met the detective in real life could ever fathom him stating in a voluntary state of mind. Raito had insisted upon completing his college career, and had expressed grief and determination at carrying on in the foot steps of his father, and the concern and pity he had received further cemented his innocence. It is more than enough to remove any doubt as to his guilt in the eyes of the surviving officer and his comrades, and Raito is given as much time as he needs in between classes and meeting occasionally with the Task Force to keep Misa from controlling all of his time. With access to the new case files and the motions of the new relegation set on finding Kira , Raito has gained control once again as both the innocent teenager, and as the new L, keeping the facts around the case undisclosed to the public and Kira's true identity succinctly out of reach. Higuchi's death had convinced many that the powers of the Death Note chose a new Kira upon the death of the last one, making the apprehension of the current perpetrator a sketchy proposition.

It had been a two days since he had seen to the needs of the dark haired man, and Raito wastes no time in stopping by his apartment long enough to get something to eat and to prepare sustenance for his prisoner. He goes out of his way to make it as bland as possible and not at all to L's liking, although not lacking in nutrients, an additional insult to the thin man's particular tastes. He goes over his plans to avert any actions his captive might take against him, meticulously rehearsing the individual scenarios over and over in his mind. It had been this skill that had enabled him to get the best of L, to put him right back at the crouching man's side when the Death Note had landed back into his hands.

L had never stood a chance against such criminal ingenuity.

After awakening once again to the wretched ticking, L groans in a maddened frustration. He is developing a deeper hatred of the unseen timepiece, almost matching his anger towards Raito in his unspoken grievance. Hours tick by until finally, he hears something outside of the door and he grinds his teeth at how badly he wishes to see the object of his enmity. The captive man did not spend his last couple of days of captivity in vain, instead making labored attempts to practice movements that would give him the upper hand. L analyzes the one opening he can find in Raito's routine, and it comes in the usual motions the teenager makes in securing his feet before taking him to the bathroom. It was the one moment when the distance between his feet and Raito's lovely head were in the closest proximity.

The brunet breezes in casually, as if the entire situation they are in is the most congenial of circumstances. He sets a container of food on the floor and scoots it a short way across the floor, an unexpected change in the habitual procedure the detective has come to know. He then walks over to his chair, and drags it noisily across the room, flopping down with a sigh of discontent. L watches with an air of somber premonition Kira displays, but it instantly turns to one of goading as Raito reaches into his coat pocket, and withdraws a lollipop. There is much presentation of the beloved candy as the teen makes an elaborate show of sensually unwrapping it, before lustily gliding his tongue across it's surface in a lewd display, all the while staring his prisoner down.

L breaks eye contact and huffs in aversion,

"I can't even begin to go into detail of all the things that are wrong with you."

Raito pulls the candy slowly from his mouth and raises a curious eyebrow, and states in a mockingly calm tone,

"Oh? That's too bad, I was hoping to gain the insight of the World's Greatest Detective in regard to serial killers. It would prove highly useful for a class project I'm doing on the motivations of Kira."

L glares at the auburn haired youth with rebellious mutiny, but returns the agreeable lilt, and it's obvious and uncharacteristic of his familiar monotone,

"I'm sorry, _Kira-kun_ is going to have study all on his own. However, I admire that he has the ability to read anything, in light of the fact that he must do so with his head shoved so very far up his own ass. I also doubt he would willingly credit me properly as the valuable resource in such an endeavor, therefore I'm unwilling to offer him any assistance at this time. He also has a terrible memory if he can't recall my insistence at not giving him anything he wants, unless it's imprisonment and death. I would be willing to make an exception for that request. "

This elicits a genuine laugh from the teenager, who hums and twirls the candy in his mouth, and his mood turns jovial as he speaks with his mouth occupied in sucking on the confection,

"That sounds terribly ungrateful of you, after everything I've done to make your accommodations more comfortable. Do you not like your bed at all? I can remove it immediately, if it displeases you."

L sullenly keeps his silence, shifting his body back and resting his hands on the floor, biding his time and Raito can see his jaw muscles flex in irritation. He lets out a sigh and rises to his feet and walks slowly towards his prisoner, removing the candy and tossing it down to the ground, grinning when he sees L's gaze follow it as he removes a set of shackles from his other pocket and taunts,

"Really, I have no idea how you could ever stand to eat so much sugar, it gives me a headache to..."

L instantly pivots on his knee and brings his other leg up in a dazzling maneuver which catches the boy right under the chin just as he bends down. Raito loses his bearing and crashes down, much to L's sudden delight. The detective quickly pulls the boy closer by his leg, and scoffs,

"No Raito-kun, that was my foot that did that, not the sugar. You'll never be any good as a detective unless you learn how to properly deduct the painstakingly obvious."

Raito feels the blow to the side of his head, and it dazes him long enough to not realize another blow is coming. L is slightly off balance, but he's proving how dangerous those feet can be. Raito keeps his eyes closed and doesn't move immediately, allowing L to inspect him closer with cautious, trembling hands. There is a moment of excited zeal when the teenager feels hands wrap around his throat, but only light pressure is exerted for a brief second as the dark haired man shudders and retracts away in disgust. In the next instant, pockets are being searched and L lets out an animated gasp as the keys nervously jingle in his fingertips, and it's obvious to Raito that his captive is unlocking the cuff that has held him prisoner. The younger man must fight against all effort to keep from smiling and betraying the fact that he is completely conscious as he feels the cuff being fastened about his own wrist, lying completely limp during the entire process while thinking about the spare key hidden in his shoe.

The once captive man's hands grow less timid as he searches through Raito's clothes, even feeling along the inside of the seams. _He's looking for a piece of the Death Note_, the bemused Kira thinks to himself as once again, his watch is completely disregarded to dangle nonchalantly on his wrist. L stands over him, suddenly much braver and steadier now that he is free.

He kicks the prone Kira swiftly in the head once more, sending a harsh ringing through the teenager's ears and bloodying his lower lip. Raito doesn't move an inch, even as he hears the door to his left creak open and L's frantic cough at his exertions outside of it. In spite of what the older man might believe, both his food and water have held traces of sedative, but not enough to render him unconscious. It's all the time the angry youth requires to surge to his feet, the unfettered chain falling to the floor.

L hears the noise from inside that accursed room, but the ring of metal in his grasp gives him a somewhat false sense of security. He realizes that he only holds a moment in which to gain his bearings, looking about him to take in that he is in some sort of a darkened basement. There are shelves filled with miscellaneous items, dusty jars and boxes bleached from age. Bare light streaming in through a small dirty window illuminates a worn, broken stairway leading up to a steel door.

He begins to scramble up the steps, keys held in a shaking hand as he reaches the halfway point just as he hears a sound behind him. The detective wastes no time as he hastens his step, his foot barely slipping on a creaking board beneath. He knows that Raito is free, and only a moment behind him, but he has the advantage of a full range of motion and he is more than willing to defend his life with deadly force, if he needs to. He starts to spin around to confront the teen, but is cut off by a blaze of brilliant light burning through his sight.

A sudden searing pain hits him in the side with blinding force, and it's when he tries to stop a stilted tailspin that causes his muscles to clench that he can see Raito right below him, taser in hand. L fumbles ineffectively at the wires in an attempt to dislodge them, but by then it is too late. He is no longer in control, as cool metal keys start to slip from his fingertips. He's falling backwards, his body unable to react, his senses tumbling with unspoken dread. Raito fluidly sidesteps his descending form, and L comes down hard, twisting his right foot as it's caught underneath the wooden step he had ascended mere seconds before . A yelp rips from his throat, as he crashes unceremoniously to the concrete landing, a crumpled, bruised mess. Raito is immediately upon him, looming overhead as L moans and tries to regain his stance. An overwhelming pain usurps his efforts as his fingers scratch along the filthy floor and he struggles to push himself upright. For some awful reason, he can't even think within the agony shooting down his leg and L knows, he simply knows that all is lost.

Raito bends down, and there is a darkly triumphant smile that crosses that lovely, malevolent face as he watches the injured man writhe in his predicament. The struggling detective feels the taser press against his back and he jolts suddenly and screams out as prolonged contact with the prongs blur his mind. He feels confused and lacks the ability to crawl away from the source of his pain, breathing heavily, his heart pounding loudly in his chest against the hard concrete floor. L tries to regain control of his muscles as he follows Kira's gaze towards his right ankle, twisted and swollen. With instant terror L watches his captor walks across the room, and time seems to stop as Raito pulls a sheath hidden along the shelves, withdrawing a flash of silver from it, right before he is impotently pinned down with no sense of gentility. L fights to move but realizes that the voltage has disabled him and lurid amounts of nausea burn within his churning insides. An intense pain shoots through him and he contorts reflexively, flailing against the floor and crying out from the effort. Within a few moments it's over, and L realizes that his body reacts merely from pain, he still holds no control over his limbs and lacks any strength to fight back.

Raito instantly stands back, and there are tiny flecks of crimson spotting the lower hem of his shirt. An exultant sneer and razor sharp eyes assess his victim a few moments before a dark, wicked laugh erupts from him, sounding triumphant and hysterical at once. The knife is thrown to the floor some distance from being of any use to the detective, and he can see the trail of blood it scatters in it's skittered wake. It's his blood, and while he knows this, it takes more than a few moments in the shock of his mind to clarify it as fact.

The dark haired man is utterly terrified in that moment, and he's not sure if it's from the perspective of his immobility or the seemingly psychotic behavior of his soon to be murderer. He begins to feel warmth pooling near his foot, and he finally gains the ability to shift his head enough to gaze down towards his feet. It's apparent that his ankle is bleeding, but the telltale inability to move his foot speaks the horrific evidence of a severed Achilles tendon. There is barely a moment to process what happens next as his attacker sets upon him, twisting his arms behind his back and forcing him down, flat on his stomach against the cold, bare floor. The wild haired detective struggles and spits curses in a multitude of languages, suddenly finding the ability to sluggishly struggle, but his efforts are more a show of defiance than aptitude. L twists weakly, kicking frantically to dislodge Kira from his back, but Raito simply sits on him until he at last settles back down, gasping harshly, his exertions exhausting him into compliance. The subdued man feels the unspeakable pain of the taser against the back of his neck, cringing and protesting the excessive use of force before he cries out, whimpering as the disorientation of his nerves relents to immobility once more.

His gaze meets forlornly with the door at the top of the steps, the great mystery on which his life would end. It is the one thing L wishes to know, more than anything else he has ever wanted in life, to simply know what lies on the other side of it.

He is completely in Kira's control now. Even if he could get from underneath Raito, he can't walk or balance long enough to get off an attempt at meia-lua de compasso, as knocking the brunet unconscious and killing him is the only guarantee to his survival.

Vicious fingers grip his hair, almost as if the teenager can read his mind, and yanks his head back, The detective lets out a sharp yelp, breaking his saddened reverie and Kira lets out cold laughter, before a flippant voice practically coos in his ear,

"_Oh L_, trying to leave me so soon? Don't you enjoy my company? Hasn't anyone ever told you it's _rude_ to kick your host in the head?"

Raito sharply hits the dark haired man, tit for tat, earning him a displeased growl from his captive. He shakes L's head violently for a moment, stunning the injured man into abrupt silence when he softly reprimands,

"I believe it's time you had a lesson in manners. I'm going to make sure you never act against me, or anyone else, _ever again_."

L looks back with questioning eyes to see the murderous amber gaze dissecting him wholly, and a sudden chill goes through him from head to toe. That strong hand in his hair doesn't let go as he is forced to his feet, the other keeping a tight grip upon his captive wrist. He can't hold his weight for long and lets out fitful cries as Raito pushes him despairingly back into that hated room. However, Raito steers him away from his bed and continues to propel him forward towards the bathroom.

L is helpless to stop his crippled trek, agony rippling through every step as Raito stops in front of the pipes that broodingly reminds him of something traumatic, his mind mercifully whitewashing most of the events to prevent him from directly recalling what had exactly happened, but the unsettled wave of sickness that grips him alerts him to the fact that something awful had occurred there Raito drops him face first to the floor, and L waivers unsteadily to get to his knees, his muscles floundering to maintain equilibrium, but he fails in his attempts to recover. The raven haired man does his best to land on his side, but the shock and pain are enough to stun him momentarily into stillness. His heart beats erratically in his chest, like a wild bird caged for the first time, beating itself bloody against the bars of it's elegant prison. L is scared, but does his best to clear his head and analyze what Raito's motives might be in this situation. All deductive evidence points to the fact that he stands very little chance of escaping alive, but his knowledge of behavioral profiling offers him a slim chance to defuse Kira's rage.

Raito watches him struggle with slight amusement before he unfastens one of L's cuffs and pulls him forward by his wrist, once again securing him to the wall. There is a swift kick to the helpless man's side, and L recoils instinctively, trying to protect himself from what may come next. He is surprised when he glances up to see the other boy storm out of the room and emits a labored exhalation. There is a concise moment of confusion before dread alights his senses in a flurry of panic and a sudden realization as Kira effortlessly breezes back into view, a rattan cane in one hand, and a knife in the other

He tries to reconcile that gleaming stainless steel as it's set on the floor, only to feel a strike from the rattan come down harshly against the back of his legs. L twists violently from the intensity of the blow, and a few more fall across his back as he wrenches his arms in an attempt to lessen the attack. Just as he feels he can stand no more, the cane rattles to the floor, and Raito's seething form crosses his vision as L pulls himself up on his knees, watching Kira move towards him, bending down with a homicidal gleam in his eye as his hand finds the knife and holds it up to glint in the bare light. The pain burns through his senses and bare tears flood his eyes as he pants in ragged, shortened breaths. The arrogant smirk on the face of his tormentor indicates that Raito enjoys his suffering, and L already knows that he is dealing with a sociopath whose Machiavellian views justify his methods. It doesn't matter if an innocent person had to die in order for Kira's madness to rule the world. In Raito's mind, the ends justified the means, and the detective understands that there is nothing he can do to encourage the other man to show him mercy. He begins to shake uncontrollably.

He can't breathe, he can't even scream in horror as his voice fails him, Raito grabbing the front of his shirt and holding the blade in the air. When L finds he can hysterically gasp, only incoherent muttering escapes his trembling lips. Raito grins down at the sight before him, the detective is terrified and visibly shaking, soft indistinct mewls of fear tumbling from his tremulous lips. There is a strong want to drive that knife in deep, to hold the other man's terrorized and dying form in it's final moments, but Raito's eyes travel down L's body and he evinces a deceptive expression of deviance and sadistic glee. The cold steel presses to the frightened man's neck and forces him to straighten his back against the rough concrete of the wall. L's watering eyes lock pleadingly with his, as the gentle, quavering tone that greets the younger man's ears delight him to no reasonable end,

"_Raito-kun_...you don't have to go through with this. Not like _this_... "

It's an unquestionable nod to end things without bloodshed, with paper and pen. The detective realizes the lateness in his request, but he knows that he does not want to die in such a gruesome manner. His softly spoken petition is a gentle, nonthreatening plea for mercy, but L shakes like a leaf in a strong wind, and Raito can't help but to drink in the power he holds over that lithe form. He could easily kill L anytime he wanted, but why not play with the wounded man already compromised psyche? Certainly, L would have to die eventually, but it wasn't necessary to kill him yet. L is mortified by the knife, so scared that he is asking for the cleaner death, without the violent posturing of an angered psychopath.

This would definitely work to Raito's already staggering advantage.

The blade exerts more pressure to L's jugular and interrupts his thoughts with an immediate wince, and Raito chuckles darkly and snaps,

"You are correct as always, my dear detective. I don't _hav_e to do this, but maybe I _want_ to. You've been nothing but an inconvenience to me from the start. Maybe it's time I put an end to this little charade of camaraderie between us. Killing you like this would be highly personal and altogether satisfying. I think it's high time you learn the price one must pay when they oppose_ Kira_."

L clenches his eyes shut and as he lets out a yell when he feels the knife press hard against his throat and draw across it. He feels himself fall from Raito's hold to the concrete and he sputters in a forlorn cry, certain that he is dying and bleeding out. A few seconds pass, and L dares to crack open his eyes to see Raito standing above him, roaring in sadistic laughter. His eyes dart about in a state of mental numbness, when he realizes that there is no blood and no gushing injury one might expect from a ripped throat. Raito continues to chuckle in apparent amusement, holding up the knife to point out to L the dull side that had been pressed to his neck.

It's a cruel joke played at the expense of his pride.

L glares at him with contemptuous zeal and responds by kicking Kira's feet from beneath him with his one good remaining, free limb. Raito stumbles back, dropping the knife with a distinct clatter to the ground, and L smirks, enjoying whatever small triumph he can get. The younger man's impromptu lack of grace at falling down to eye level with his enemy is a small compensation for the injuries he has suffered. It fills him with the tiniest bit of happiness to see Raito slip in his blood the moment he tries to regain his composure, a short act of morbid black comedy to see the usually charming youth curse in his lack of poise.

Such a victory is short lived, once Raito catches the bared teeth of the condescending smile the moment it manifests upon his captive's face, and he is immediately enraged at being humiliated. He carefully gathers up the knife and slowly stalks towards the wounded man. The look on L's face immediately turns to one of intimidated concern, and his aggressor regains the psychological upper hand, making his approach slow and intrepid. L cringes back against the wall and Raito grabs him by the hair in an attempt to hold him still.

The floor is slippery with blood beneath his feet, and the detective knows that there will be no escape from his fate. Kira pounces him with a maddened snarl, and the thin man can only attempt to curl away from that blade as it comes down, a hand his shirt shredding the material as if it were rice paper. Within the disorderly scrambling, L is certain that he is living his last moments. Yet it becomes apparent within his floundering that Raito is not attempting to stab him, and the wounds from the helpless writhing are all superficially inflicted, defensive wounds. He stops twisting long enough for Raito to pull the remains of his bloodied, torn short from his body, and Raito doesn't stop there. Hands begin to pull on his jeans, and suddenly L doesn't care if he's being killed or not, he doesn't want to be naked and vulnerable in front of this sadistic maniac. It causes him spectacular amounts of pain to kick out and to yank his liberally bleeding wrist against the metal handcuff, but it's a fight L knows he's already going to lose. He determines to not die without a fight.

The auburn haired boy retaliates by pinning his legs, and punching him in the head a few times before L settles down, with a look that is both dazed and bereft. Raito pulls the remaining clothes from the thin man's body, and takes stock of the darkened, bruised spots that adorn the pale flesh. He smiles and softly strokes along the fading edges of a larger mark and L spits at him, wriggling to break from the direct contact and hisses,

"Stop touching me, you sick bastard! You won't evade capture forever, even once I'm dead. You're doomed to die for your crimes, no matter what you do to me! I'll never bow to your will!"

Raito takes pause long enough to wipe the spittle from his face, when he remembers the rattan stick on the ground. He smiles, offering no words in return as bends down to retrieve it. L backs up against the wall before his captor raises and brings the switch down with fury and intent against the menacing eyes staring back at him in defiant insubordination.

It's clear that Raito is determined to teach him a lesson, and the dark haired man curses and does his best to fight back to no avail.

The blows continue to fall, even after L begins to scream, his shrieks rebounding off the concrete walls in a lone symphony of distress and agony. Even when the blood begins to fly back from the cane against Kira's own body from the force of his strikes, the attack against his captive is unrelenting. L finally loses his footing completely, huddling away in every direction although none of them offer him relief from the onslaught. His voice grows steadily hoarse and becomes punctuated with tear filled sobs for mercy.

At last, the naked man loses consciousness and only then does Raito cease the vicious beating, taking in a brief confirmation that L is still alive before gathering his weapons and immersing the room in darkness, locking the door behind him. He would give L a few days without food and water to see how determined L's resolve would remain, and remind him of who was truly in charge.

**This chapter, unlike the others, is dedicated to someone with whom I no longer speak to. They had written another story here, and inspired me to once again start to write and tap into my wellspring of creativity. No matter the circumstances, a promise is a promise after all. I'm obligated to keep my word, and thus my honor, in spite of all that cares to happen in this uncertain world. There was never a moment to fret, because once I realized that I had prepared for the events as they began to unfold, I saw there was no need to suffer at the decay and downfall of someone who never had my best interests at heart. What I had seen in them, was merely the mask they adorned for the grand ballroom, not unlike the disguises the wicked politicians who once graced the Piazza San Marco had worn. In the safety of misguided trust I had been temporarily fooled, and I let them in. However, such deceptions can only be carried out as long as the darkness prevailed, and the moment I had found fire, I had discovered what really mattered to me. I thank this person, for what they reminded me of, that little bit of spark deep within that understood the greatest victories are the ones where you stand up and fight back for all that you're worth. I found the greatest happiness in letting go of what held me back, and the negativity of their presence could no longer poison me. I never had to fall to their level of cruel words and abuse, every action they took against me simply strengthened my resolve that I was doing the right thing. **

**After everything that happened, I could never feel sorrow for opening my heart to someone, no matter how broken or how tragic they insisted things to be. Sometimes when I look back at the time we shared I understand that I feel no regret in losing contact, because they had had never been a real friend of mine. Although drawn by the false light I had mistaken within them, I knew that allowing them to steal my fire would have been a greater tragedy. In the end, I could never grieve losing something of so little value, because there was never gold at the end of that rainbow, only their _brilliance tarnished..._**


	8. Chapter 8

**OMG, yes, I'm so happy for the reviews, and just like I promised, they made me write more! Now that classes are over for the summer, I plan to put a little more time towards getting this story done. I'm very serious about finishing it, so just bear with me and my strange bouts of insanity. This chapter is dedicated to the love of my life, whose initial also happens to be L, and she's one of the reasons why I love to write this stuff...and as added incentive I have purchased an ice cream cake that I'm only allowed to eat if I finish this chapter tonight! That cake will be MINE!**

**An interesting note that absolutely nothing really to do with the story, but the mental imagery seemed to stick in my mind so strongly that I decided to share it with you. _Quis ut Deus _is Latin for "Who is like God?" and also a literal translation for the Hebrew name Mikha'el, attributed to the archangel St. Michael. Many depictions of St. Michael show him standing victorious over a slain dragon, said to represent the evils of the world and those who defend them. He's also the patron saint of knights, police officers and soldiers.**

**The reason why this image feels so strong in this story has more to do with the fact that Kira believes himself to be a god, a protector and a creator of a new world and he believes himself victorious in this delusion to the very end in both the anime and manga. He likens himself to the legend just a little too closely for it to be purely coincidence.**

**And for those who didn't know, the name Ryuzaki has within it's context, the word..._dragon_.**

_**Quis ut Deus~ Who is like God?**_

There is soft, indistinct moaning that echoes forlornly amidst the cold, dark concrete walls of L's prison. At first, all he can do is groan and breathe in small gasps, as acute pain envelopes his entire back and he does his best to simply not move. It's all he can do, as he flattens the bare skin of his stomach against the frigid floor that zaps him of every bit of body heat. The sensation for once is welcomed, and L fades in and out of a nightmare that seems to resume the moment his eyes open.

Hours pass like this, and the few minutes L is cognizant of pain burning across his senses, he instantly regrets his decision to escape. He had acted too brashly, driven by hunger and desperation to react too soon to his one opportunity for freedom. There had been a few fleeting minutes where joy had consumed his mind and the sight of that doorway just above the steps, an unexpected Shangri-la he had only been able to fantasize about, once outside of the realm of reality, but the door existed! It was tangible, a verified reality and he longs for it now more than anything he has ever wanted in his entire life. Anything but this one dismal, aphotic concrete dungeon in which to rot away the rest of his miserable days, tortured slowly before his execution. There had to be another way.

Kira would be more wary now, while the chances of escaping before had been slim, it is highly likely that Raito would take even more precautions to prevent his captive from another attempt. Even worse, the dark haired man is certain that Kira's knife had dealt a crippling blow, and to test himself, he tries to move his foot with timidity. The Achilles tendon is cleanly severed, and the detective knows there is no way he will be able to effectively fight his adversary on even terms. L silently curses himself for his overzealous need to flee. The fact of the matter was that he had become too weak and drugged to effectively fight against his captor. The ailing man pushes back a tirade of self pity and hopelessness and mentally admonishes himself against falling into depression. _There will be another chance for escape, _L reasons silently with himself, but the physical conditions he's suffering allow him so much optimism. He falls into another fitful sleep and steels himself for Raito's return, which he assures himself will eventually come.

After what seems like an eternity, L notices that the light beneath the door comes and goes. It stands to reason that Raito would be reluctant to return the first day, yet as the second day comes to a close, L is desperate for water and his body begins to ache with a renewed vigor. Although the floor is unbearably cold, he starts to sweat. His back stings like a fresh burn, and it almost knocks the air from his lungs to struggle and change his position. His mouth is cottony, his throat is dry and achingly sore from the desperate screams that had poured from him during his beating. A few more hours pass, and his skin is on fire, his hair is damp from perspiration and it slowly drips across him, the salt stinging his wounds. He silently pleads for Raito to open that door with the customary bottles of drugged water before he starts to cough, wracking his body with torturous spasms. As the light beneath the door grows dim, L is plagued with insurmountable fears. It's more than obvious to him that he is feverish, as his vision begins to swim with blurred outlines until darkness consumes his existence once more.

On the third day, L can stand the isolation no more. He's beyond feeble and dehydrated to the point that when he finally breaks down and begins to cry, tears stubbornly refuse to flow from his sticky eyes. His entire body trembles uncontrollably by some internal mechanism that doesn't allow him true ease, and he is well aware of severe physically illness and the blood red, inflamed skin around the visible welts he can barely see from the dim light under the damning door attest to it There is infection raging through his system, and all he has left is the ability to inhale choppy, agonized bits of air, the ceaseless pang of desperation sitting like a heavy stone in his growling stomach. For the first time, he is terrified to be alone.

Only one thought occurs to him now, ringing true over and over again in his mind.

Raito has left him here to die.

Alone, beaten and naked in a room barren of food, water or comfort of any sort, this is the most logical conclusion he reaches in his ailing state. Why even bother writing his name down in that wretched Death Note when simply abandoning him to wither away from thirst, starvation and sickness was just as effective? Although there is a sudden confidence in reaching such a conclusion, there is no congratulatory after thought to his deductions. L realizes how awful his last moments alive will be and there is a lone intense sorrow at his fate. He uses what little strength is left in him to pull his legs up in spite of the pain it causes, doing his best to curl into a fetal position on his side. Broken, whispering sobs of heartache struggle from his throat, until he can cry no more, shivering and overheated from his efforts. If only that door would open, he would rejoice in the most exuberant display of humility, as long as water is his reward. His longing borders on an obsessive need, survival begging at his mind for the one thing that would offer him hope. Even if Raito wanted to beat him again, he would willingly accept the pain in exchange for something to quench his thirst.

There was no escape from this, no chance at all of changing the fate that Kira had diligently planned for him. It's a hateful, vile thing to accept and L uses every last bit of strength he mentally possesses to combat such an idea, but in the end he realizes that there is nothing left for him to argue. His head pounds as if his heart has lodged itself between his ears, and every position he tries adds to his agonized misery. His body finally reaches a point where crying and simply breathing are more torturous than lying completely still and he can no longer justify wanting consciousness any longer. His cracked lips bleed sluggishly as he finally gives up his desire to remain awake, knowing that this is probably the last time he will do so voluntarily.

Another hour passes, and as if by some miracle, Raito steps inside and turns on the light. His gaze instantly finds the other man, looking far worse than he had left him. He walks over to where L has curled up on the floor, his bloody, scabbed wrists dangling above his head, his hands blue from lack of circulation. Raito nudges him with his shoe with clear disdain, but to no avail. An immediate worry begins to tickle in the back of his mind, as he delivers a soft kick to the beaten man's leg and states,

"Come on L, wake up. I don't time for anymore of your games."

L still refuses to move, and after a few minutes Raito bends down on one knee and grasps his hair with a sharp tug. Upon feeling the damp, oily strands he begins to notice the inflamed cuts across his captive's wounded flesh, coloring it deep purple and black to crimson and dark pink. It's once he reaches down and feels the sweaty flesh of L's cheek that it becomes apparent to him that L is truly out of it, weakened and dying from fever.

Raito stumbles back and curses aloud, suddenly angry at himself for leaving the helpless man in such a state. How long had L been unconscious? He bends back down and feels the slow pulse in L's throat, and decides to unchain him from the wall. Even if his captive were only faking unconsciousness, it isn't as though he would get very far, considering his injuries.

L's arm falls with a sickening thud down against the concrete, and Raito lets out an aggravated growl at the condition of his prisoner. Had he really done this to the other man, in the heat of his anger? He had only wanted to show his prisoner who had the upper hand, and teach him a lesson as to who was in charge, not tear up his body like a child suddenly bored with an unwanted toy. He removes his jacket, and places it over the chair left neglected in the corner, before walking back over and picking L up in his arms, the broken man lying listless and limp like a broken rag doll. Raito carries him into the bathroom, and sets him in the tub, grabbing a clean washcloth, soap and turning on the tap for cool running water. He begins to slowly, methodically clean the wounds left by the rattan cane, the look of unease and repulsion bubbling up in his expressions as he began to take stock of the extent of damage he had wrought in his rage fueled punishment.

It should have never gone so far, even the much thought of injury to L's foot seems excessive and awful to consider now. Raito had only wanted a way to prevent his captive from acting against him with those deadly feet, but the injury is just as disfiguring as it is crippling, and it's crusted over, scabbed appearance turns his stomach sour quickly. If he can get L's fever down and cleanse his lacerations, there is a chance that the beaten man will live through his ordeal.

However, it all depends on how long L had been out, and how high the fever had gone. After he finishes cleaning and scrubbing the bloody welts that crisscross the comatose man's skin, Raito runs clean water across him, watching the pink stained fluid swirl nosily down the drain. He has no choice but to take a chance with moving the injured man, and decides to wrap him in towels, before hoisting him back up, and carrying him out of the bathroom. His gaze falls to the sight of the floor and the wall where L had previously been, and notices the amount of blood splatter adorning the concrete with a sudden gut wrenching need to look away. He carries his prisoner out of the room, and turns just under the stairwell to another door. He balances L on his shoulder against the wall for a moment before grasping the door handle, and pushing the door open with his foot, using his leverage to flip on a light switch on the wall.

This room is strikingly different from the one that had served as L's prison for the past few weeks. The walls are painted white, and the room still smells of fresh paint. There is a bed with pale blue linens in one corner, and an unlit bathroom across from it. Raito had prepared the room over a month ago, in the hopes of using it for himself should he have need to keep a close eye on his captive, or to use it as a more comfortable backdrop for other activities with his prisoner. Raito gently places L on the bed, and then reaches underneath it, pulling out a black box. Upon opening it, he instantly finds what he is looking for, a set of leather restraints, padlocks, a lightweight chain and a first aid kit. He loops the chain through a D-ring that he had riveted to the metal wall, and sets to applying antiseptic and bandages to his feverish man's wrists, before fastening the restraints barely tight, and locking them in place. He removes the towels with trepidation, and begins the process of swabbing each with the antiseptic, and applying antibiotic liberally across every inflamed sore. Throughout the process, L begins to weakly stir, soft mews of pain barely escaping his wordless lips. Raito takes a few moments to retrieve a glass of water, and grabs a few tablets of acetaminophen before sitting down next to the detective's prone, naked form, and coaxing him to swallow the medicine down. It takes several minutes, and there is an involuntary reaction to drink, which leads to a sudden coughing fit and once again, unconsciousness.

An hour passes, and Raito uses a thermometer to monitor the severity of L's fever. Sweat still runs from the dark haired man's forehead, and he lies eerily still, not even moving as Raito handles him to make the process of trying to give him more water an easier task. The wounded man's fever isn't coming back down from the first time Raito had taken it, and instead shows an increase to 40 C within the short time he has received care. The brunet curses in exasperation, realizing that fluids and pain medication will not be enough to stop the progress of infection in the older man's system. L desperately needs antibiotics to fight the sickness raging in his body, and the younger man immediately remembers there being a few bottles of medications he had discovered from Task Force HQ, along with the endless supply of sedatives he had used to keep his captive quiet.

He leaves the room, and enters the thirds and final room in the basement of the large house he had purchased using funds allotted to the various Task Force members from L himself. By wiring a large sum overseas through the Bahamas and back through a Swiss account, he had been able to buy the property under a fictitious name, and had seen to doing small renovations during his time away from other responsibilities. The house sits out in a more desolate area, with only a few run down warehouses as neighbors and very little traffic. Raito had chosen the location more for it's seclusion than he had for it's amenities, and was pleasantly surprised to find that the basement had suited his needs perfectly.

His hand finds a pull string, illuminating the space and revealing an entire room filled with various boxes, each containing items he had deemed of possible use to him for keeping L under control, and all stolen from the detective's own supplies. The teenager shudders to think of what use L might have found in having such drugs at his disposal, and he can only assume that they were there with his own capture and interrogation in mind. Raito rummages through several before finally finding one with promise. Upon finding the box, he pulls it closer and locates multiple bottles, pulling out his phone and using the browser function to research the use of each. It takes a few minutes, but he finally finds a broad spectrum antibiotic and holding it in hand, turns the light out and returns to L's side.

His prisoner hasn't moved a fraction in his absence, and Raito wastes no time in trying to force the pills into his mouth, and encouraging him to swallow. It takes several attempts, and much water ends up spilling around the hapless man's shoulders, until by some miracle he awakens long enough to emit a labored cry and ingests the pills, before taking in large gulps of water and settling back down.

All Raito can do now, is wait.

Why was he going through all the trouble of treating the stubborn man and keeping him alive? There is no good explanation anymore, although L is the enemy, there is something deceivingly frail and naive about him. Killing as Kira had afforded Raito a certain distance from his crimes, to willingly murder criminals that plagued society had been an effortless proposition, yet it had been a bloodless one.

Being able to witness L suffer in person had been something he had fantasized about for months, but the reality of watching the helpless man struggle for life is messy, and dulls the vision of revenge he had once held dear. In spite of how much he hated L for getting in the way of his plans and humiliating the name of Kira on a live broadcast for the entire Kanto region to see, L is still a human being. Isn't that what made the Death Note so unerringly convenient? There had never been the need to expend more energy into the killing of those who broke the law, Kira's ways were efficient and humane. Raito had prided himself on only having the alter the death of so few in order to protect himself and his cause, and the number of innocent lives that had been wasted in the process were so much less than any war or insurrection for change had ever sacrificed. Why couldn't someone as intelligent as L see that opposition to such methods were a needless act of suicide as an exercise in utter futility?

Another few hours pass, and it's apparent that L is getting worse. His stillness is replaced by a turbulent tossing and turning, and he cries weakly as there is no energy behind it. Raito takes his temperature and it disquiets him when he reads the digital screen and sees the result staring back at him. At 41.2 C, L is restlessly approaching dangerous territory, and death. Although normally, a high fever might not be enough to kill someone from infection, there is a possibility that his body was also still fighting off the effects of the sedatives Raito had placed in his food and water. After so many days, there is a chance that L had developed a dependence to the medications and sudden cessation would cause immediate withdrawal and weaken him further.

The brilliant teenager curses himself once more, for not thinking of this ahead of time, but also for the amount of damage that L has suffered. There is an overpowering, delicate nature to his captive in his current state, and Raito can't ever remember looking at the other man and wondering how he seemed to fight back at all with such a thin body. L had lost weight since his captivity, although he had very little physical activity outside of the forced trauma the brunet had set upon him in the spur of the moment. The dark haired man looks so easily broken, helpless and fragile, like handling him too much might cause him to unexpectedly break into tiny pieces.

Raito worriedly retrieves a washcloth and a small basin of cool water, and comes back to sit once again beside the detective, gently cooling him with the damp cloth along his forehead and cheeks, softly pulling the long hair that obstructs his dark eyes. Long black lashes hide the usually wide Stygian orbs that would observe him with critical diligence, and Raito is immediately captivated by how every minute feature upon that completely relaxed face seems to bestow an almost ethereal quality to it's owner. Without his odd mannerisms, L had a certain beautiful, almost childlike quality to his features, yet the bruised dark bags beneath those endless eyes betray their owner's lack of innocence. How many crime scene photos had those fathomless pools of black stared into, to pull the answers from the barest of details? Before he had found the Death Note, Raito had once held the title of L in fond reverence and awe, the reputation of the detective and his intelligence preceding any need for formal introductions outside of a modulated voice and a Gothic script character upon a screen to the world. Showing himself to Kira and putting himself in danger had been his first mistake, one that had lead him to his current predicament.

Upon meeting the detective, Raito had known that he possessed something the older man did not, a clear social compass that directed his behavior to effortlessly blend in to the world around him. In the end, it had been this skill and his ability to put pressure on L and cause near mutiny over his seeming innocence among the Task Force, and L had caved in after watching Soichiro Yagami crumble into a mental breakdown shortly after suffering a heart attack from the stress of the Kira case. The look of fright and horror in L's eyes as he watched the Task Force members stumble and fall to their deaths, dramatic and awful, but it had all been over within forty seconds and had given Raito an exact rendition of what the dark haired man had feared the most. L fears death, above all else, and Raito had planned to push the man to the limits of his mental capabilities to break him down. Beating the detective into a deadly fever and coma had never been part of the plan.

It would only take forty seconds to kill L off humanely, but Raito wasn't satisfied with ending everything so soon. He pushes more water on the feverish man, forcing the liquid down his throat and continues his efforts to cool him off. The reading steadily climbs to 41.8 C, and Raito knows that even if L manages to survive, there is a chance that there will be damage to that magnificent mind if the fever goes on for too long. It is then that L begins to shake violently, and his eyes barely crack open. The injured man cries so lowly it is almost a whisper, his ragged voice calling for help,

"Raito-kun, please...please come back..."

Raito pauses in stunned silence, and then continues to wipe his prisoner's forehead with the damp cloth, softly stating,

"I'm right here, L. Shh, don't push yourself too hard. You've very sick right now."

Tiny sobs of pain break from the wounded man's lips, and Raito finds himself covering L's bare body with a clean sheet, and gently comforting him. The brunet is unsure of why he feels compelled to show compassion towards the dying man, but there is a steady ache in his stomach unlike anything he has ever experienced before. So many times, he had envisioned killing L and basking in the glory of total triumph over his ultimate obstacle,and his ego longs for victory at all costs. Yet this is somehow different than he had imagined, there is no pride in crushing the life of a wounded man. Raito had craved to defeat his opponent on even ground, and had succeeded in accomplishing his wish. Keeping L alive had no other purpose than to let him suffer a little before death, to rue his desire to ever try and stop Kira's reign with his efforts. He had resolved to taint his soul by using the Death Note, but he had never once dirtied his hands with the blood of his victims. Kira stands as the murderer of so many across the world, yet never once had he ever had to witness one of the criminals he had judged suffer in such prolonged agony. The damage he had committed against the thin man's frail form had been done in humiliation, and blind rage.

There is no small amount of regret at killing his enemy in such an outburst of anger. Why had he acted in such a murderous capacity without a second thought? If he had wanted the man dead, he could have ended it long before this moment. His mind wrestles with the decision of whether or not he should write the name down, and give L a peaceful death, but there is something deep inside that prevents him from having to resort to such measures. When had he developed the want to preserve this man's life? Had it been the swelling desire that struck him with the lust of the moment, when he had stolen L's pride and taken his body by force? It is true, he wants L more than anyone he has ever met, Raito knows all too well that he is infatuated with the power he holds over his prisoner.

L struggles a moment and closes his eyes, apparently in severe pain,

"Raito-kun.. is Kira..."

At this, Raito lets out a small laugh and tries to get L to drink in spite of his fevered insistence to speak.

"Yes, I think we've established that a long time ago."

The dark haired man breathes heavily and drinks, and appears too weak to swallow anymore when he turns towards Raito's hand, gently pressing his forehead against it and barely whispering,

"There is nothing but honesty... between us now. "

At this, the teen freezes cold, and watches the helpless man shiver in the throes of fever. Did L even realize what he's saying at this moment? Yet what the ill man speaks is truth, and it suddenly hits Raito like a ton of bricks, dislodging his safety within the safe tether of everything he has ever known. Every day of his life, the brunet had to act accordingly to the finely tuned song and dance required for him to manipulate everyone around him, to what was expected for someone of such flawless persona. At the same time, he had always been prisoner to the need to secure his place within the safety of mass ignorance, and condemned to a lonely existence within the walls of his own intellect. Since the Death Note had fallen into his hands, every action he had taken forced him to further hide who he truly was from everyone, a constant mind numbing exercise in the mundane rules of a world that failed in it's capacity to see what he was capable of. He had spent years willingly playing the part, gliding into his settings with the charm and ease of a born social intellectual, and now he had found his true purpose in the twisted scheme that had done it's best to set him apart from others. He would use his superior mind and the Death Note, and rule them all. It was only fair that he received some form of compensation for sullying his hands with the deaths of so many. A necessary evil, controlled by the one best qualified to deal with the repercussions, Raito wouldn't allow ridiculously fickle and indecisive public opinions to sway the path of his ultimate plans.

Not even his one consenting partner in crime understands him on the same level that L does, although Misa had promised him undying loyalty. In his goal to manipulate and use her, Raito had lost all respect and desire to let her into his private thoughts. As much as Misa convinces herself that love conquers all, there is too much of a mental divide for her to ever gain access to the internal world that he shared with no one outside of a carefree and unhelpful shinigami. No, Kira is known only to the person with whom he had developed a false friendship with, for the purposes of murdering him.

L is the only person he shows his true self to, without reservation. Had that been the reason that he had allowed the detective to live, not to torment and use him, but because the dark haired man is the only person who sees him for who he really is? Had it been a subconscious attempt to preserve some small bit of his own humanity for at least the one individual with the capacity to fully understand him, to witness?

He is dazed by this revelation and it is then that he whispers,

"Better an honest enemy than a false friend."

At this, L stirs with great effort, a soft glimmer of tears held within the coal dark eyes that struggle to meet Raito's gaze, before quietly stating,

"Raito really was...my first friend...he was the only one to ever match my intelligence... and see me for who I really was..."

At this, L goes completely still, his breathing labored and his skin disturbing pale. Raito flounders momentarily in a mental shock, and when he goes to shake his prisoner, L is unresponsive and unconscious. He fights with the concept of what the other man has just told him, troubled by what it implies and his own sudden emotions in retaliation to what has been confessed. There had been many times when Raito remembers the two of them working together to catch Higuchi, where they had acted in such perfect concert that there had been moments since he had reawakened as Kira if there could have ever been the chance of the two of them working together. If the Death Note had never found it's way back inot his hands, would he have stayed on the same side as L, working to find criminals instead of executing them outright? In spite of all the things that had annoyed him to no end concerning the other man, there had always been a deep appreciation at how well they had worked together, and part of him had lingered in that fantasy until the black notebook had fallen back into his possession. Sacrificing L for his new world is a small price to pay, isn't it?

Then what explains the burning sensation in his gut at destroying the one that got in his way? It had all been a deception from the beginning, right? He had never really been friends with the detective, he had only agreed to it so that he could get close enough to him and stop him from interfering with his quest as the new god of a better world. He had also assumed, that L had done the same, lying to him about the friendship in order to get evidence on him as Kira, and nothing more. Yet L never made contact with anyone outside of Watari via a computer screen, and those that worked for him on a limited basis.

It's true then, that L had no one on his level, who understood him the same way that Raito could, and vice versa. He remembers the hour before he had gone through with killing off the members of the first task force, having instructed Misa in a note left in the remaining free Death Note of how to write down the cause of death, and then the names afterward so that they would all die quickly within the same amount of time. The time they had spent upon that rooftop before L's life and dignity had come crashing down around him. Yet there is an inkling of those tense moments when L had looked into his eyes and told him of his sadness, claiming that they would be parting ways soon enough. Had L planned something right before his bold move to stop the investigation dead in it's tracks?

He checks L temperature again and sees that it's now been over an hour and that his fever is well within critical levels. There is no way he can take the injured man to a hospital, and despite all the water, medication and attempts to cool him down, there doesn't seem to be any signs that he's getting better. There is a good chance that L will not make it to the morning, so Raito takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, cursing aloud before walking out of the room into the concrete cell that his prisoner had occupied before. He then picks up the chair that had fallen over haphazardly and begins to scream and beat the walls with it, smashing it into pieces. His anger doesn't assuage easily, and it's only when there is nothing left to destroy of the object of his destruction that he finally stops himself, panting and seething in frustration.

Raito collects his senses before returning to L's side, to verify that the man is still in dire condition, before carefully pulling the sheet up to his shoulders. After a few moments, he decides to retrieve a blanket from a closet, and covers L with it as well, tucking it in with an almost caring amount of gentleness. He considers removing the bottles of water from the bedside, but something in him no longer wishes to spend anymore time in that room with the evidence of his mistake. He knows that when he returns in the morning, that the detective may very well be dead, and he steels himself with that possibility before taking one last look. The stilled, deceptively calm poise upon that tired face seems at peace, and it's now more than the brunet can stand to bear any longer. He silently closes the room, but the nagging persistence of this one crime begins to haunt him.

It is the first time he has ever bloodied his hands with murder outside of the Death Note.


	9. Chapter 9

De Inimico Non Loquaris Sed Cogites

_I deeply apolgize for the loooong hiatus. It's been madness, I tell ya, mental illness is a motherfucker...sometimes you just wake up with a nasty hangover in the Bahamas and can't figure out how you got there. Okay...I know how I physically got there...(I took a boat! Whee!) what I meant was that I had this sudden feeling that my life had turned into this insane whirlwind of fantastic events that would make one hell of a bestseller if I ever had the inclination to write...wait a minute...I remember now! I used to write in the throes of wine fueled bravado...long and sleepless nights filled with emotional outbursts, awe strikingly deep rhythmic down tempo music and such sweet, delicious drive to do nothing more than to pour out my heart's wickedest desires on golden, vanilla scented paper. I looked away from my bottle of rum as we spent one last afternoon on the sand, slightly ashamed at the length of our trepidations together and with as much tenderness as I could put into my voice calmly announced, "We've had some really good times, but I've got to move on. I still love you, but this isn't working out for me...I'm leaving you for Moscato..."_

_Oh c'mon now...you really didn't think I was going to let L die yet, did you? I mean, I haven't even gotten to the...interesting parts of the story yet. Mwahahahaha..._

_Okay, now for a few warnings...my writing has not dulled in my lengthy downtime, which means that it still carries all the caveats of malevolence as before, to occasionally (*cough* frequently) contain scenarios of torture, overall mind fuckery (my spell check has just informed me this is not a word, but I disagree. Doesn't it sound a bit genteel? "Splendid idea, let's engage in a game of fuckery for this evening's entertainment!" ...No? Maybe it's just me...and the answer is yes. Yes, LET'S.), non-con and dub-con...(OMG, Dubious Khan, is he invading the unsuspecting countryside with barely perceptible hints of pillage and plunder, or just sightseeing? LMFAO!) so if any of this bothers you, you can meander to another page and do whatever floats your boat...look at funny pictures of cats with witty captions or get in huge arguments with total strangers...who am I to tell you how to use one of the most efficient means of obtaining all the discovered knowledge ever put forward by mankind? Rock on with your bad self, you incorrigible rebel! Go on and lick that lead based paint, all those warnings from the EPA are just the man, trying to keep you down! Okay, don't...don't lick the paint. It's really a bad idea and I'm sorry. Please accept my continuance of this tragic tale as my humble apology, should I happen to have any readers left._

**De inimico non loquaris sed cogites - Don't wish ill for your enemy; plan it.**

There is a light stirring from beneath the soft cotton linens, and L's mind drifts in and out of a dream it doesn't wish to wake from. He can still feel pain, the sticky heat of sickness still lingering warm and thick across his skin, but the sensation of softness beneath his head and the improbable fantasies of a real bed are too good to let go of just yet. He wants to hold onto them as long as possible, and refuses to open his eyes even when consciousness tries to drag him back to wakefulness.

It doesn't take much for him to drift weakly back into his desired delusion, as his body still longs for rest and he easily falls into deep sleep.

For a few brief seconds, there is a voice speaking to him, rousing him to awaken once again. He can barely open his swollen eyes, but the sound persists and he has no choice but to struggle against his mind's insistent need to remain unmoved by such distraction.

"L, wake up. Can you hear me? Are you awake?"

It seems such a silly question, one that he does not feel the energy or the need to reply to. Of course he is awake, otherwise he wouldn't have opened his eyes for a few brief seconds, but then there is the glorious peace of being left alone right before cool water floods his mouth. An instinctive need commands him to drink voraciously in spite of a slightly strange taste on his tongue. L's body shakes from the strength of his thirst as his thin, bruised throat gulps in desperate gasps before he once again grows slack. He falls back into the welcoming darkness, his pain ebbing away along with his awareness of anything else.

It had been upon Raito's return that he had found his enemy sleeping peacefully, his fever apparently broken sometime in the early hours of the morning. This discovery had immediately mandated the regiment of stronger antibiotics and pain killers, but L refuses wake up for more than a few moments, overcome with exhaustion. All the dark haired man wants to do is sleep and for the better part of three days, Raito allows him to do so.

On the fourth day, he is able to rouse the incoherent man long enough to carry him to the bathroom in order to facilitate the necessary routine, but had almost drowned him when L had slipped from his grasp beneath the bubbles of his bathwater. L had managed to cough up water for a few brief moments, but gently fell back to deep slumber once Raito had wrapped towels around him and put him back in a clean bed.

The pale man shivers briefly before the darkness reclaims his mind and Raito sighs with frustration as he sets about gently cleaning the wounds of his prisoner. Although L is recovering, the process is slow and while the detective seems genuinely out of it, his warden is growing frustrated with having to play nurse maid to the bedridden victim of his rage. Raito shakes him roughly for a moment, but there is no reaction that convinces him that L will gain true consciousness anytime soon. As he changes the bandages from around L's ruined ankle, it occurs to him that he must carefully consider his next plan of action.

As much as Raito is somewhat at questionable ease that L had managed to survive the infection that had plagued him after trying to escape, he is readily irritated with the amount of responsibility that is involved in caring for the unconscious man. There is nothing remotely entertaining about such boring routine, and he can't help but to feel inconvenienced by this turn of events. L's periods of wakefulness are beginning to grow longer and more frequent, but there is no indication as to when Raito can return to his normal schedule. It is all too apparent that once the detective gains the ability to care for himself, that there will be a bigger question as to what to do with him and how to prevent another escape attempt.

It is obvious that the injury to his heel limits his mobility, yet it doesn't prevent the capacity of that unrelenting mind to think of another way to escape or to try and possibly kill him. The only way Raito can possibly thwart the efficiency of L's impeccable intellect is to infect it with paranoia and fear, and to psychologically twist it to focus on something else, but he readily knows that the detective is far too sharp to fall for simple misdirection. It stands to also reason that L will be very afraid of him after surviving this ordeal, but he would also fight any and all efforts to keep him under control. It was all too likely that such fear would cause that genius mind to kick into over drive and necessitate deadly force.

If there was anything that the teen had learned in his time of captivity while handcuffed to the detective, it is that L was both tenacious and stubborn to a fault, and more than willing to get into a fight. Raito would have to combat his enemy on the familiar playing field of mental misdirection, pain and humiliation. Even with the odds in Kira's favor, it would be far from an easy task to achieve.

Raito removes the soiled bandages and returns to the bedside, scooting close enough to hold the injured man in his lap. L closes his eyes and continues to mumble incoherently, and Raito calms him by stroking his dark, black hair. Had he given the older man enough morphine? He had done his best to research the dosage beforehand, but it's too late to adjust the amount now. L quiets down, oblivious to the idea that the source of his pain and torment is also the same as that which now soothes him. It's a strange dillemma that Raito finds himself in, as both comforter and tormenter. There is no sense of satisfaction from L's pain when he suffers without putting up a fight in return, and this stark contrast of reactions surprises the young man, distantly questioning his own intentions.

It has been almost two and a half weeks since that night when L had last spoken to him in the delirium of fever. Raito had wretchedly returned the next morning, unable to sleep as his mind could do nothing else but wonder as to the fate of his ailing enemy. His mind had told him that it was unreasonable to worry about the pale, dying man in a basement halfway across town, yet it had not stopped him from tossing and turning all night long in the worst night's sleep he had ever experienced. Something about leaving L had made him feel less than victorious, and even more than casually disturbed in his reasoning as to why it made any sense to not kill the injured man in the first place.

Why would it matter if L were dead or not? The deaths of thousands already taints his hands, and while this remains an undeniable fact, it is only L's blood that he has seen with his own eyes, red and damning and very unlike the ink which has stained them before. Kira had the ability to kill without ever getting his hands dirty, that was the ultimate beauty of using the Death Note. Had he simply been disgusted with his behavior or the fact that after the brutal attack he had looked down at the reddish brown stains, had felt his pulse quicken in horror at the difficulty of scrubbing away the drying blood creased beneath his fingertips?

It is as Raito holds the injured L and feels the soft, deep inhalation of his chest against his own that he realizes how much he savors and oddly enjoys the complete control over the life of his captive. Perfect, nimble fingers play with the unruly nest of raven locks upon the head nestled almost trustingly within the killer's embrace as a calm, simple smile tugs along smirking lips. This was the only experience that had ever rivaled the sensation and power that owning the Death Note had bestowed upon him. The world was quickly falling under his rule, perfected daily and cleansed as he saw fit, but it was still very necessary to conceal his identity as Kira until the odds were clearly in his favor. Years of pretense, the constant acting and putting on of the many faces society had required of him had prepared him unquestionably for the daily disguises he was still required to wear outside of these walls.

It was with L that he had no need to pretend, it was exactly as L had stated in his fevered delarations, there was truly nothing but honesty between them now. L had always known the truth, had clung to it in spite of the disproval of those around him and stood his ground even when Raito himself had been convinced of his own innocence. When the Note had fallen back into his hands and his memories had been restored, L had noticed the change instantly. He had often caught the endless gaze of the troubled detective as he studied him intently from the edges of his periphery, fascinated and prideful that L had reacted so cautiously, like a small animal that had suddenly become aware that it was being hunted.

L never treated him with the same, pure reverence that others had readily bestowed upon him without question. No, everything from this bizarre man had to be fought for, tooth for tooth and nail for bloody nail. Raito watched L shift wordlessly in his lap and let out a subtle sigh of contentment. Perhaps the painkillers contributed more to the drowsy state of his opponent than actual injury. He would start weaning L off of his dosage tomorrow and see if that had any effect. The teenager beamed inwardly at the progress of the pale man's healing, and congratulated himself for putting up with the dull routine for as long as he had. Who was to say that he was a god completely without mercy? It is aholds gently holds the crippled man in his arms, that there is no question as to his claims of deity.

He falls asleep tangled within those languid limbs, knowing that the indignation of the other man would never allow such an intrusion into his personal space. Later on when he wakes, he takes immense pleasure in this violation, rubbing gently along every stretch of exposed pale flesh to coax reflexive, sensuous sounds from the unconscious man.

L's breath hitches and his pulse speeds ups the more perversely Raito's hands stray, causing him almost childlike glee when those pale lips part and a soft baritone moan breaks the silence. Many of L's less serious wounds have healed over, replaced by angry pink lines that leave faint ridges across the once perfect, pallid colored flesh. Something within Kira thrills to lightly trace the physical proof etched into the body of his once greatest enemy, if only to admire how resilient L has demonstrated himself to be under conditions of both torture and duress. How much could both the mind and the body of the detective endure before breaking completely open, unable to withstand any more?

He finds that he wants to discover that limit, so that he can push his adversary as close to the edge as possible, over and over again. The prospects of this new game promises him as much excitement as holding a ready pen over a blank page of the Death Note.

Raito's finally returns to his apartment and realizes how deep his thoughts have strayed when he is suddenly impeded by a tight embrace and cloying, sickly sweet perfume that assaults his senses. He emphatically dislodges the blonde from his torso and states in indignation,

"I haven't even properly walked through the front door yet. Let go of me, I'm still tired from a long night."

Misa backs up and pouts with a trembling lip and watering brown eyes as she pleads,

"Misa Misa was worried when you didn't come home last night. I thought something awful might have happened to you!"

He pushes past Misa as he sets his books down and murmurs through gritted teeth in an aggravated tone, just outside of the mournful girl's hearing,

"Something awful has happened to me...something I will rectify soon enough."

"Hmm?" Misa's head pops up in his field of vision and he sighs slowly before placing a winning smile upon his lips, one that he knows will erase all doubt from the silly girl's head and warmly caresses her cheek,

"I'm sorry I stayed out all night. It's been very hard on me lately, trying to play the role of both L and Kira at the same time. I simply lost track of time until I realized it made better sense to stay the night. I didn't think you would be so worried about me." He pats her on the head and starts to walk to their room for a fresh change of clothing.

The blonde blushes, but there is a questioning look on her face as she stammers,

"I went to the office and tried to get a hold of someone, but..." Ratio stops dead in his tracks and spins around to grab Misa by the arms and snaps with murderous rage,

"WHAT IN THE HELL POSSESSED YOU..!"

"...but no one answered...I w-was worried..." Misa trembles and her voice drifts off into a whisper and Raito swiftly releases her as though her skin burns his hands to touch. He exhales in relief and replies,

"Then I can easily fix that, I'm the one who reviews all the footage from the security cameras and I can erase any evidence that you were there. Misa, you must never try to find me ever again. It could greatly endanger us if I tell anyone on the Kira investigation that I'm here and you come looking for me." He doesn't bother to answer her yearning with his true whereabouts but she manages to restate her concerns nonetheless,

"You're not seeing another woman, are you?" Once again those sad, questioning eyes greet him and at this he has to roar with laughter.

"Don't worry about that Misa, you are the only woman in my life right now. Didn't I ask you to move in with me to prove that?" He starts to walk towards the bedroom again when that tiny voiced asks,

"Is it a man?"

The glare Raito shoots her could have killed more effectively than the deadly black book he cherishes so much. Misa quickly readjusts her simpering and tries to defend her line of thinking with an apologetic explanation,

"I mean, you never stay home anymore and you barely even touch me...and after being handcuffed to Ryuuzaki for so many months I can completely understand if maybe..."

His eyes narrow down on her and he clenches his fists as he calmly inquires,

"What has Ryuk been telling you?" The blonde drops her gaze to the floor and bites her bottom lip, tears pool in her yes but no reply comes.

Raito let's out an annoyed breath he had been unaware that he had been holding in and states,

"And you had the audacity to believe him..." He slams the door shut with satisfaction on the look of astonishment on Misa's face and turns to face his former shinigami with eyes of pure animosity.

Ryuk instantly takes the hint and drifts through the bedroom wall to leave him alone. Sooner or later he would have to find a way to deal with Misa before it greatly interfered with his plans.

_A/N I would like to thank everyone of my readers who have stuck beside me on this story, and even more thanks to those who have reviewed in my absence. It was your words that convinced me to come back and finish what I started._

_C_


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